Diary of Wonder Woman
by Dusty Secrets
Summary: "Do you want to know how I got these scars?" he asked. "Do you want to know how I got mine?" I returned. Diana Prince is best friend's with Bruce Wayne, a fallen victim to an unorthodox love triangle with the Joker, and to top things off her nemesis, Selina Kyle, aka Catwoman, jumps into her life to induce paranoia and fight to take everything she has. [ Joker/OC ]
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

I fought with the sheets yet again that night. I just couldn't keep my eyes shut. Something was haunting me. Something powerful. Something that seemed to thrive on my discomfort. It was eating me alive. I could only toss and turn in agony, fighting to forget that night's occurrence. The picture was vivid in my mind. It had no plans of fading.

I had made a huge mistake that night.

I had done something unforgivable. Something vile. Something repulsive. Something _impulsive_.

There came that time again when I just couldn't help myself. He overcame me yet again. Yes, this wasn't the first time I had committed this indwelling sin.

No, I was a common faller on his behalf. Maybe I even enjoyed what I was doing. Why did I, though?

I was supposed to be a woman full of righteousness. A protector of the city. Some of the inhabitants would even see it necessary to call me a _Goddess_, mind their kindness and contributions.

But still, despite my good deeds put forth to this often unfortunate city, I still can't condone my unfaithfulness...my demons have arisen, they have.

I just couldn't help myself. Maybe I didn't even want to help myself...perhaps I loved...

...sleeping with the enemy.


	2. How it all began

**_Five months earlier~_**

It all started shortly after my 27th birthday.

Bruce and I were having a conversation atop a building towards dusk in the harsh-lucked city of Gotham. That city went through Hell on a regular basis. Anything from the organized crime to the big and pretentious bad guys who felt the obligation to put up a fight for the city's ownership, or destruction.

Either way, life in Gotham was intriguing to say the least. I never endured a normal day while there. I had moved there from Metropolis, when I did work with the haughty and proud Superman, or as I simply called him, "Clark Kent".

I needed a change of scenery, as well as a change of lifestyle. I'd gotten back into contact with Bruce after a long five years. We'd been accomplices before my heroic outakes in Metropolis, which hadn't been the thrill I thought it would be, hence my return to Gotham with my old friend Batman.

"This city isn't what it used to be, huh Bruce?" I asked the misanthrope deeply voiced man, as I was perched crosslegged on the cemented edge of the tower. He was more on the quiet side, I'd say. He was tall, dark and so damn recluse. He sure as hell didn't remove that symbolistic mask of his, no, he just loved savoring his true identity.

In response, he sighed and shook his head.

"Everything changes with time, Diana, whether we want it to or not. Sometimes life just decides to take on its own little toll, for our opinions do not really appeal to..., no, the Judge of us is up there. He ultimately decides what's best for us."

Ah, there was Bruce, referencing God again. Sometimes I was under the impression that God was the only being he really cared for.

"But then, there is us. We are heroes, Diana. We fight for the greater good. It may be all we can do, but at least we're contributing our efforts to those who are helpless."

He paused.

"Helpless...because of _them_."

He was referring to the frequent strikes of the masterminds. Yes, they loved attacking this city, for I suppose it carried a certain alluring calling, just begging the criminals to hit it with their best shot. It was irksome, yes, but what could we do? All we could do was fight against it. Fight off these demons of society and try to keep everything running right, though arduous the majority of the time…

"Yes, they won't abstain. They thrive on their own misdeeds. They take on the passion that their sins give off and use it to their advantage. They love it, Dian, _love it._"

My eyes were drawn to the hot pink sky. It must have been nearly 80 degrees at this point. It was summer. We didn't get to feel the brisk chill of nightfall until that fall, which I didn't frown upon too much. During the day, however, I couldn't help but crave a gush of ice-cool wind to blow through me. To relieve my overheated body and wipe out the uncomfortable throbbing in my joints. I could wait though. Just another three months and I'd be granted that satisfaction.

"Who loves it, Bruce?" I asked, a tad baffled by his lecture. I turned my gaze towards my mysterious friend and wanted him to clarify. I'd gotten the gist of his statement. I knew he was referring to his enemies, or at least, one of them. There was a large list of them, well, a very large list. It amazed me how many people had it against Batman. How many people wanted him dead.

God, there was the Riddler, Bane, Ra's al Ghul, Penguin, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy...sometimes Catwoman and most strenuous of all, the Joker. I had a hunch of who he had on his mind already, just by those concluding thoughts.

He sighed. "Bane was quite the onslaught...the bastard practically ripped my spine in half, but he real war was with...huh…" he frustratingly sighed.

"The Jok-" I started.

"Yes, the _Joker_." He was obviously bothered by him to a far extent. Even talking about him made him uneasy.

"Ah, well, don't let him get to you, Bruce. He's gone."

"No...no, he's not. He's out there...somewhere. I know he's not dead. He's too damn crazy to die."

We let silence wafer after that statement. I knew just how much he loathed this man. This madman.

The clown faced man of destruction was devoted to destroying the established order and spreading anarchy one wild antic at a time. I'd never been face-to-face with this potential freak, and I was thankful for that. I wasn't strong like Bruce was, nor did I have his bravery.

He was an army within himself. He could conquer the world. I was beyond thankful that I had a friend like him. I needed his presence, his caringness, his words of wisdom. He was my family for the time being. My mentor. My personal hero.

Essentially, I valued our friendship over our previous relationship, that I had with him when I was 21. I'm afraid I don't have a legitimate reason for that, but I can just feel it in my heart. The desire...to not be _his_.

He was my first. My first real boyfriend. My first real kiss. The first (and admittedly only) person I'd had sex with. He was my first _everything_. I will always love him. He will always be a part of me.

Perhaps I did know the truth.

Someone else was in line for him. I was not the one.

"Do you think he'll ever return?" I felt the need to ask.

"I believe he will...one day."

And that day arrived not too long after that.


	3. Ambush

**_Ambush_**

I was currently living in an apartment in the western section of the city by Gotham Square. I was working as a columnist at the Gotham Gazette, writing on about current criminal activity and Bruce's preventative measures. My task was always simple, considering I had first-hand communication with the Dark Knight, with him being my best friend and even my only real companion at the time.

Like Bruce had told me in that conversation we had the other day, I was a hero, like him, just not as...well, 'show-offy' about it. Of course I'm not implying that Bruce is an extroverted man. No, I couldn't really suggest that at all. He was indeed a loner, and preferred sticking by the shadows, but that didn't mean that he held back from protecting his city. He fought for Gotham relentlessly, putting forth more effort than me, anyway. That didn't mean that I didn't fight for the society. I wouldn't believe that for one second.

Well, as one can guess, a majority of criminal activity occurred at night, which just-so-happened to be Bruce's favorite time of the day, which is not too shocking if you really know this man. He was _alive_ at night. He thrived on the moon's light. It empowered him and made him a God.

I was more for the daylight. I contributed my deeds after my 'normal' job after noon. Now, I didn't roam the streets in my heroic attire, no, I found that to be a tad arrogant, especially out in broad daylight. I preferred sporting my red and blue suit towards dusk, or when a major act of criminality was going on somewhere in the city. Like a few weeks after my arrival to Gotham, when one of Bruce's old foe's, the Riddler was striking up an illegal holdup at our city's main bank. I wore my suit, for it was compatible against this madman's bound-to-be intense weaponry. Simple clothing would have torn and fallen apart.

My costume was threaded a bit thicker than the average T shirt, and was more stretchable, which worked out well for me when it came to having to extend a leg out towards the enemy and inflicting pain on his manhood, unless I'm opposed with a female, then I'd be throwing a leg out to her shin.

It wasn't greatly detailed. It was simply red and blue, and built like a bathing suit. I wore black ankle boots along with it. I wasn't necessarily a picky woman when it came to fashion sense. If I had to wear it, then I had to wear it. No big deal. Not at all. I'd go for a turtleneck and a pair of uggs any winter day. Well, maybe not the uggs…but...you get my gist.

And I most certainly didn't wear a cape.

When it came to my 'stage name' or societal reference, I've got to say I didn't completely enjoy the calling of 'Wonder Woman'. No, I went by that when I started out my hero work at age 19.

At this point, I just wanted people to call me by my real name, "Diana" or even "Diane." Either or, but not the loud and proud name of 'Wonder Woman'.

It wasn't like I was going to go out there and tell the public to "quit calling me by that ditsy call-girl of a name," for at this point it was my trademark, just like Bruce's nation-wide addressing of 'Batman'. It was how they knew me, and there were enough amends undergone in that city on a daily basis.

Who wanted another one?

Besides, I wasn't really bothered by this. No, I had other dilemmas to face, including my career in journalism and my duty out on the streets.

I came to resent what occurred to me on the streets that night, however.

* * *

I had just exited the local Panera with my dinner of a vegetarian sandwich and a green tea. It

must have been around ten at night. I'd just returned from a late-night meeting with the press about the next week's publishing plans.

I was wearing 3-inch heels with a black tank top and skirt, not wearing my suit underneath. I regularly didn't anyways when out on a normal task in the city. I just kept my appearance...well, normal.

No one was around. I was completely alone. Bruce was patrolling the east side of the city, a good ten miles from where I was. He knew I could fend for myself. I even knew this, or rather, _believed_ this, but tonight, I was one of the helpless…

I must have been less than a mile from my apartment. I decided to *stupidly* cut through a short, but dark and unpromising alleyway. I had no source of protection on me. Just my purse, a _small _cartridge of mace, and my phone, that was dead of battery at the time.

Well, as every woman should know, including myself, you **never **cross through a forbidding alley past 7:00, or in this city, maybe noon would be the limit.

I'd made it halfway through this 70 foot passageway, when out of nowhere someone, or rather, a couple people grabbed me and forced me to the ground.

I dropped my purse and hit the cold cement in a blinding flash. Before I could escape, one of the attackers climb on top of me and restrained my arms. I gasped out in a cry for help, of course being heard by no one but the attackers.

I had met the eyes of the man atop me, but just the eyes. He was wearing a strange clown-like mask displaying a gnarly frown. I was in no gear for a fight, let alone a successful escape.

I fought as hard as I could, not getting anywhere or even moving this man a muscle. The other two got down to the ground and held my shoulders down. I'd never been more panicked in my life.

"G-get the fuck off of me!" I cried as the men seemed to be enjoying my struggle and using it to their advantage.

One of them asked me a startling question.

"You Wonder Woman?"

I didn't know what to say. And how did he know who I was? If I said "no," then chances were they would just kill me off, but a "yes" wasn't going to get me down the safe path either. They obviously needed something from me.

Something vital. Perhaps answers, to a question I had felt that I already knew of.

"Y-yes," I decided to answer, keeping my fingers crossed that maybe that would threaten them a bit. I had not. Not at all, in fact, it seemed to encourage them further.

"Alright, boys, we've got her," one said, while another stood up and went over to a suitcase. He appeared to be getting something out of it...that turned out to be a needle.

_Shit_, they were going to drug me out. I'd be out cold in seconds if I didn't make an escape.

I continued to struggle, now even biting into the shoulder of the guy holding down my waist.

Seconds later, the masked man returned with a needle, prepared to inject me with it.

"STOP! Stop it, please!" I uselessly pleaded, with no avail.

"Sorry, Miss. The Boss needs ya," one replied in a Boston-like accent, while the shot had already made its way into my right upper arm. I instantly became weaker. Everything faded, and I fell into a state of blackness.


	4. The Scars of Interrogation

_**The Scars of Interrogation** _

I slowly regained consciousness seemingly hours later. I was at first disorientated and groggy. I tried to move, but couldn't, for something was keeping me tightly bound...to a chair. There was a small light above me.

I opened my eyes and saw that I was sitting tied up with ropes around me in the middle of a darkened room with just that single light bulb hanging above me.

I felt like I was in one of those old fashioned hold up scenes in some mafia movie. The only emotion I was feeling was fear. What did these freaks want? Money? Power? I had nothing valuable to give out. These guys were wasting their time.

Once my eyes adjusted, I looked around me and fought to make out some objects off in the distance with little to no avail. I must have been struggling with the ropes for around ten minutes before I heard a door open and close swiftly...and then cackling.

Very mischievous cackling. It sounded cartoonish, really. It was freaking me out. It slowly died down as a man was approaching me, a man I couldn't completely make out just yet, not until he came into my light.

I knew this man.

That white makeup sloppily smeared all over his face with the major overdosage of what appeared to be blood-red lipstick drawn all over his lips and marked across his cheeks like a malevolent smile, and the raccoon-like pile of thick black eye makeup smeared around his eyes. His hair was long for a man, grown out a couple inches above his shoulders. It was a darker shade of brown yet seemingly tinged with yellow or green hair coloring.

Dear fuck. I had been faced with the Joker.

"Well, what do we have here?" he chuckled, as he leaned in closer than necessary. He harshly grasped my jawline and held my face up towards him by force.

"W-what the hell do you want?!" I managed to protest. Things continued to get awkward by him spreading his legs and perching himself onto the wide metal seat on my lap, each of his knees pressed against each side of my hip. He continued to hold my face as he looked down at me from directly above. I squirmed madly for freedom.

"I want information, princess," he complied, while now grasping a handful of my hair and giving it a strong tug.

"_Plenty_ of information," he repeated darker, while I had the impression that this freak was going to strangle me that very second.

"What? I-I don't have any informa…"

"Oh, but you do!" he interrupted, while I was feeling more and more uneasy by the second.

He pressed himself harder against me and held each side of my face, of course while squeezing with painful force.

"You know all about _him_. You're close to _him_. You're his best friend. Best Allie. _He _trusts you. And you trust _him_."

Now I knew who he was referring to. There was no way in hell I was going to give in to his upcoming plead. No way. I dared to ask who he was referring to, just to break the ice. Maybe I could convince him that I didn't know _him_ as well as he had suspected.

"Who?"

He tightened his grip on my chin and jerked my head forward against his abdomen.

"THE BATMAN!" he hollered, half pissed and half excited.

Well, like I said. I wasn't about to sell out my best friend's identity no matter how severe his threats would get. And I knew just how legitimate he was going to be with this considering the size of the blade sticking out of his right pocket. Nonetheless, I would never forgive myself.

"I don't know him personally…" I lied, knowing deep down that that wouldn't cut it. He knew that I knew damn well who Bruce was. I'd gone as far as sex with him after all, though he didn't know _that_ part...hopefully.

My theory had been correct. This madman swiped his knife out of his pocket swiftly and held it against my cheek.

"Oh, no, you do, sweetheart. Don't give me _that_ bullshit, now. You know who he is. You're his accomplice. Where would the brute be without you?" he asked, without a hint of anger in his tone. He was actually calm and contempt, yet exceedingly serious about slitting my throat if I didn't speak the truth.

I flinched and moved every muscle in my body fighting to squirm my way out of the tight ropes and into freedom. Jesus Christ, what would Bruce do when he found out that the Joker had returned to Gotham? Unless he'd been there all along…

"W-what do you want from him anyways? Do you have a crush on him?" I decided to muster, though with not much wise thought put towards it. Regret consumed me when he threw a dead-on punch to my nose.

As I yelped out in pain he held the back of my head while massaging his fingers through my tresses as if trying to soothe me.

"Yes, I fucking_ love_ the bastard," he growled while I fidgeted like never before.

"I'm not telling you _shit_," I declared, adamant and uncaring for whatever he was going to throw at me. Bruce had had enough of this freak's torment and abuse. I wasn't about to put him through more of it.

He didn't hit me this time...or slice his blade on me, thankfully. He got off of me and walked away and out the door, just like that.

Obviously nothing good was headed my way. He was probably going to return with more threatening weaponry. All I could do was prepare for the worst, for these ropes were not to budge.

* * *

He returned with two men in clown masks just a few minutes later. My stomach knotted up. They had thick chains in their masculine hands.

"Untie her. I want this bitch chained to the wall," the Joker ordered, while I squirmed madly and uselessly. The two large and strengthened men came at me quickly. They both began tearing apart and loosening up my ropes, while the Joker restrained me.

I was untied in seconds. You can assume that I fought with great endurance, though I might as well have not, for I was being taken over like a puppet. All three men kept me bound as they carried me out of the room and into a smaller area with a prison cell-like surrounding and chains hanging about eight feet high on the wall. It was cold, dark and poorly cemented all around, walls and floor.

I was shoved against the wall and each of my hands were cuffed into the chains. I struggled to fight properly, considering my still prevalent weakness from the sedative. I couldn't hold back tears at this point, tears from both fear and anger.

"Should we chain her legs up too?" one of the men asked.

"No, I want her legs _free_."

I did not like the way he said that. It made me feel sick.

"L-let g-go of me!"

"_Shhh_," he mustered. "Answer my questions and I wont hurt you...too bad anyway." He signalled the men to leave, making me even more nervous for some reason.

"How did you know who I was?" I asked. His capturing of me had been baffling me for the past hour I'd been there.

"Let's just say that I've got quite the army working for me, whether assassin's or spies. Not to mention the Gazette's headlines would catch my eye.

_'Batman and Wonder Woman at war with the city_

_Wonder Woman and Batman halt a robbery on 52nd street_…

B and WW this and B and WW that... ya know the one thing I noticed after a while?..."

He leaned in and held me firmly against the cold and rough wall.

"Wonder Woman and Batman! Wonder Woman and Batman! _Wonder Woman_, _Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman_!" he yelled in my face, really getting his fucking point across.

"Yup, this 'Wonder Woman' seemed to look suspiciously like a journalist...a journalist named Diana Prince…"

"Yeah, but how the hell did you-"

"I didn't. Let's just say that not all of my attendees have shitty attention spans...a few of them happened to notice the complexions after a while, probably considering you and 'Wonder Woman' are featured in the same paper...both of your pictures are shown in the Gazette…"

Christ, he was right. How could I have...how could I have been so Goddamn stupid? God, why didn't I wear a mask when I had the chance? It was too late now.

"_Shit_…" was all I could muster.

"So one of my comrades starting spying on ya about a month ago, just to be sure that you were who we thought you were. He'd see those two sides of you, day in and day out. The woman in the blue and red suit who can kick some ass on a perpetual cycle, and the 'normal' girl who writes on about good ol' Bats and wears anything from a blouse and jeans to a black dress like _this_."

His hands grasped my waist making me flinch and blush simultaneously. He'd been holding my legs in place, for if he hadn't been, I'd've given him the thrust of a lifetime to his nuts.

I fought against him yet again, seeming to just turn him on even more.

"Fuck, you're beautiful...It would almost be a shame to kill you off…" he mustered into my neck, as I continued to squirm.

"He will come here and kill you first," I stated, as he went on about his business.

"No, no, he can't kill _me,_ Diana. He's tried too many times before. He doesn't have it in him, the _good_ old bastard. That's what I like about him. He'll always fight, but he'll never be animal enough to _kill_."

His hand slid up into my skirt and through my underwear. He grasped my ass. Not even Bruce had felt me up the way he did. I hate to admit this, but the way the Joker was sliding his right hand all over my left buttox was both embarrassing and fascinating. And _God_ do I hate being honest with that second notion. I was feeling increasingly vulnerable by the second.

"And frankly," he growled into my ear. "Neither are you."

For some reason that had given me the strength and courage to shove him off of me with all of my force, just being able to throw him away a couple feet.

"I always love a fighter," he mustered, then went for me again. I attempted to kick his crotch area to fend him off, but unfortunately missed.

He swiped his dagger out yet again and this time pressed it against my neck.

"Who is _**he**_?!"

I insultingly spat on him. If he was going to _fuck_ with me, then I was going to _fuck_ with him.

"Fuck off. You'll never know. At least, not from me, you won't." I was making more and more mistakes by the minute, but I had to do what I had to do.

I was instantly barricaded by his body. He stood over me by at least six inches. He seemed to be just over 6 foot, of course still being shorter than Bruce who stood at a manly 6'4.

He cupped my face with both of his hands. He gazed down at me with a purposely sympathetic look.

"Do you want to know how I got these scars?" he asked.

I continued to struggle against him.

"Do you want to know how I got _mine_?" I returned. My response must've taken him aback a little. I think he was expecting another whimpered "stop it" or "please." Maybe even a "have mercy!" No, it was time for me to stand my ground.

He wouldn't take his gaze off of me. For a second I had believed that maybe he didn't want to fight anymore. Of course I was misperceived. The asshole practically shoved me through the wall moments after that comment.

"What is it going to take?!" he growled.

Suddenly, as if just summoned, Bruce crashed in and tackled him.

"I guess it's going to take _me_."


	5. Bruce vs The Joker

**_Bruce vs. The Joker_**

The two crashed to the floor, Bruce on top and the Joker beneath. I sighed in relief, but then panicked once more, for there was a turbulent brawl about to occur.

"Well, look who decided to show up!" the malicious clown practically cackled, while Bruce thought it wise to sock him across the jawline, as did I.

"Damn Bats, what's with the animosity? I haven't even had a chance to-"

Bruce swung another punch at him. I didn't frown upon it. He then grasped the collar of his shirt and tugged with great force.

"What are you doing with her?!" he growled darker than I'd ever heard him. He merely laughed in response, gaining him yet another infliction across the face.

"Take it easy, take it easy. I wasn't going to hurt her. I just wanted some information is all…" I hadn't the chance to warn Bruce of the henchmen coming for him from behind to attack.

They swung large crow bars down on his back, bringing a yelp of agony out of him. I cringed at the sight and fought to break loose from my chains.

God, I'd almost hollered his name out in spite of fear, and thank God I hadn't. That was just what this sick prick wanted. His name and his identity. I wouldn't even give him his first name to feed off of. He'd likely even make something of that, and perhaps even eventually discover his last name along with everything else that Bruce kept confidential.

Bruce seemed to manage the strike, for he flipped around decisively and threw a few blows at them, knocking them to their asses.

Bruce came right for me once the men hit the floor. He worked quickly to unbind the chains.

"_We've got to move fast, Diana!" _he whispered with a hint of angst in his tone. I wanted to kiss him for saving me. I knew deep in my heart that I'd surely do so later, for now the Joker was gaining his stance and pouncing onto Bruce.

"HA HA HA! You're not going anywhere, Batman!" he hollered enthusiastically. Bruce astonishingly slung him over his right shoulder and slammed him back onto the cemented floor. He groaned moronically.

Bruce ecstatically went for my chains again and fought to loosen them up, with deliberate avail. The Joker's employees went for Bruce again with their weapons, while Bruce did manage to fend them off with his own agile combatting skills.

"_Careful Bruce!" _I warned, silent as possible yet audible enough for Bruce to hear.

At this point he'd gotten my left arm free and was successfully undoing my right arm. Just as he had freed my right arm, the Joker was back on his feet and coming for Bruce with his blade clenched firmly in hand.

"Look out!" I cautioned while pulling him out of the way. Rather than pouncing once more for Bruce, he grabbed _me_, and threateningly held his knife against my neck.

"We draw the line here, Batty. Either you reveal yourself, or she _dies_."

It appeared as if Bruce had no choice now. I struggled to escape his hold on me with no success.

Bruce frowned frustratingly and sighed with complete loss of hope. He didn't completely give in just yet, however.

He glared him dead in the eyes and said "let her go," serious as he could contend.

The Joker had not taken that consideration to the slightest ponder and pressed the tip of the blade against the edge of the left side of my neck. As if I hadn't lost enough blood from the infliction to my nose earlier, I now had a stream of blood running down my neck.

Bruce stepped heartily towards us to at least attempt at making the Joker cower in fear hence backing off of me, but of course that was not the case, rather the contrary.

He dug his blade just a tad more into my skin, resulting in both more blood and a waterfall of tears to flow down my cheeks. I (perhaps arrogantly) almost wanted to shout his name out right then.

_Bruce Wayne! It's Bruce fucking Wayne! Owner of Wayne's Enterprises and city Industrialist!_

But I kept my lips sealed. I knew he'd speak eventually if he really had to. He sighed once more with both anger and apprehension. He paced back and forth in deep vacillation, seeming in no hurry to reveal himself, or save me from knocking on death's door.

"And to what advantage would my identity bring you? How will knowing who I am gain you anything more than what you have?" Bruce reasoned, now making not only the Joker exceedingly impatient, but also myself.

_Jesus, Bruce! He's just seconds away from swiping this thing across my neck! _I couldn't help but scream in my mind, while shooting him a serious expression. Would it really be the end of the world if Bruce's identity was known by someone, or in the long run everyone, besides myself? This bastard already knew who I was, so I thought it fair for perhaps this freak to maybe know Bruce's secrets. The Joker had slightly loosened his grasp, but kept his knife held just a few centimeters from my neck.

"Oh, you have no idea of the absolute bliss It'd bring me, Bat_man_. To finally know my opposition, my enemy, my foe. Yes, it would do me well, well, it would do _everyone_ well...to know who you are...who their hero really is...maybe they'd even respect ya more if they knew-"

"And again I ask you, how does my identification apply to your life?!" Bruce retorted, trying to get the clown to cut to the chase and throw in a legitimate answer, which I doubted he'd do, _properly_ anyway.

"It's...eh, really more the matter of helping me sleep through the night peacefully…" That's all he complied.

"So won't you tell me who you are, then?" Bruce stammered, _really_ not helping.

"Whoa, don't play against the rules, now-"

"What rules? Tell me who you are and perhaps I'll comply the same!"

_C'MON, BRUCE! Jesus!_

"You know me, Bat-"

"I know your _innovatively _(stated heavily with sarcasm) established stage name. I want to know who you really are!"

The Joker clicked his tongue twice as if reluctantly giving in along with a likely roll of the eyes, which I couldn't see since I was being restrained in front of him while facing Bruce.

"Dan-iel Liger…" he moaned, sounding very unserious.

"You're lying."

"Let's not forget the point, Batman!" he declared, while yet again pressing the blade to my neck covered in drying blood.

"You let loose your little secret or _she_ dies!"

_Just throw one out there, Bruce! For fuck's sake!_

" *ahem* Ben Poler. It's Benjamin Poler," he replied.

The Joker daintily played with the blade against my neck now. Did he believe him? Bruce made sure to sound truthful with his reply, but did he see authenticity?

"Ben Poler? _Ben Poler_? I'm not sure I'm feeling tha-"

Just then Bruce had managed to shoot the Joker with an unidentified weapon, likely a small gun which he had at held at his side, it seemed. He was hit in his left leg just inches above his knee.

He dropped down to the floor in pain from the very sudden bullet put through him. I was out of his captivity.

Through gritted teeth the Joker mustered, "always got to break the damn rules, don't you?"

Bruce and I scrambled past his unconscious henchmen and fled through the place headed for the exit that I was oblivious to considering I woke up tied to a chair in the middle of what seemed to be a storage room, with no knowledge of where I even truly was.

As we ran, I could hear the Joker's obnoxious howling of laughter echoing throughout the place.

"_That schizo son of a bitch_…" Bruce groaned as we made our way out. He turned his attention to me.

"Are you alri-"

I slapped him.

"You son of a bitch! You were totally going to let him kill me, weren't you! Just to protect your precious identity! I'll have you know that I was just seconds away from shouting out your name!

Hell, I would've even including your middle name and date of birth along with that if he'd've asked!"

"No, Diana, I had to improvise-"

"BULLSHIT! You let the fucker slice my neck!"

"Listen to me, I had to take things slowly, for if I hadn't-"

"Please, Bruce. Just...forget it. It's over now."

"Diana-"

"Shut up." I began to walk away from him but he stopped me with his almost overwhelmingly tight grip on my wrist.

"You better know that I give a damn about you. I care far too much for you to let anyone hurt you, no matter the downfall it'd bring on my part. It was a close call in there. A _very _close call. I had no choice but to let some things go awry in order to save you."

"Jesus, Bruce, what if things didn't work out the way they did?"

"They did though. That's all that matters."

I shot one more wary eye at him, and then dismissively shrugged.

"Huh...how did you know where I was?" I asked, shocked that I'd put my frustration in front of that key question.

"I got a report from Jim saying that a woman had been jumped by a trio of men and taken away in a van according to a witness. I then tried to contact you but-"

"My phone is dead…" Never again would I let _that _happen…

"Well, you know what I felt obligated to do...and at the hands of _him_. I just...can't believe he's really back, Dian."

I suppose I was taken aback as well. That had been my first (and wantingly _only_) time ever faced with the Joker. It was unsettling, repulsive, elusive, peculiar...outright strange and degrading.

But that way he touched me...grabbed my ass...kissed my neck...told me of my "fucking beauty" as he put it...that was..._not_ thrilling, but awakening.

I hadn't felt another's hand on my bare behind in years. Not since, well, Bruce and I had a thing going.

I could feel it.

That psychopathic freak wanted me. And to be entirely frank, what I wanted, _was to be wanted_…

even if it was by the most cynical madman out there…

"_Dian?"_

I snapped out of my un-reputable trance and gave my attention back to Bruce.

We had stopped in front of my apartment.

"Take care," he said calmly while giving me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Goodnight, Bruce," I returned, then headed up the steps and into what was going to be a sleepless night.


	6. Selina

_**A fair warning- If you dislike intense sensuality, then I'd advise skipping down past the first borderline**_

* * *

**_Selina_**

I definitely had difficulty sleeping at first. When I did manage to fall into a stupor, I dreamt the highly un-preferable.

That night's events replayed vividly in my mind, with a touch of exaggeration.

It was like I wasn't really myself. There was no way I could have been...no, I was not myself, but I controlled every little thing I was doing.

Just a large room, the very one I was held captive in earlier on arrival. The lightbulb shone above a big and empty metal table. I was kissing someone, I mean _really _kissing someone. Alright, we were making out. This man's hands traveled all over me. He held me in his arms while my legs were wrapped around him before he laid me down on the table. His mouth moved vigorously along the left side of my neck. I couldn't abstain from moaning...no, this man was advancing on me and I was loving it.

His hands went for the zipper on my jeans and my pants were loosened up before I really knew it. He wasted no time with tugging my pants down and shoving his hands down my panties, this time not hesitating to feel _both_ sides of me.

"_Diana…" _I heard this man groan.

This incognito was not Bruce, and I didn't care.

"_You are a fucking slut,"_ he added while pulling my underwear down and then unzipping his own pride and glory.

I met his face. This was _The Joker_, but he wasn't wearing that hideous makeup, none, in fact, except for a smudge of leftover black liner on his left lower eyelid, and of course those scars traced along his cheek. Nonetheless, this was still a very attractive man.

Bruce had never talked to me this way. Never. He was sweet and gentle, and never in a big hurry to make love. Sometimes I wanted him to, well, go a little rougher on me...to maybe barricade me with his body and unfasten my bra in a complete hurry as if he had a strong craving for my breasts.

That's what this man was doing. He wanted me. Then and now. He needed me. In part, I needed him, or maybe I just wanted to sleep with him really bad.

Either way, it was happening. He had my undershirt off and was currently working away at my bra with much success. I nervously and anticipatingly held onto his broad shoulders. He forced his lips back onto mine, signaling me to unbutton his shirt and remove it.

This may have just been a dream, but my hands still trembled as if this were a real-life situation. We used his dark trench coat to cover us up and our clothes beneath me for more comfort.

He rushed to get in me. His palms grasped my breasts as he moved in and out of me in a furious fashion. He was excellent, I hated to admit it, but he was.

I said nothing to him as he did the opposite. All I heard from him was dirty mutters that made me blush. I don't even know what the hell he said, for my mind had erased it in a nervous panic on awakening.

Oh my God… I'd had sex with the Joker…

...and I loved it.

* * *

I lied there at 6:32 AM, a confused mess. There was no way in **hell **I was in love with that madman. No way. That was the most vivid dream I'd ever really had, sex or otherwise. It was like I could really _feel _everything. I was breathing heavily in the middle of my bed. My nightgown was ruffled up over my waist and my nipples were practically shot through my dress, showing very much so anyways. And I hate to be vulgarly blunt, but my panties were soaked.

I scrambled out of bed and ran into my bathroom. I fiercely removed all of my clothes in a tense and heated rush and got into the shower. Why hadn't I done this when I got home? _His _lips had been on my neck, and hands (likely filthy) hands had been down in my underwear. I felt contaminated and vile. Not to mention the dried blood on my neck and around my nose...

I scrubbed away at every little inch of my body. I had to rid his essence, his touch, and in a way, his presence.

I felt better after washing away. I was not going back to bed, despite the fact that I had that day off.

I had a chance of possibly returning to that erotic dream...that dream that I really didn't need. A dream that in part made _me_ disgusting for even having it.

_I felt like a whore_.

I had to get my mind on something else. There was something I could do, or rather, kind of needed to do.

Now that the Joker and his cronies had returned to Gotham, the city was yet again in imminent danger.

Sure, the organized crime situation may have been eased down a bit, but I feared that these clowns had something worse brewed up.

Bruce had told me all about the Joker's plans. What he had done...just how heinous he was...killed people everyday, and did so in a sick attempt to get Bruce to reveal his true colors. Even murdered a good friend of his, a woman named Rachel Dawes, he told me. He had apparently known her from his youth. She'd been engaged to the former District Attorney, Harvey Dent. I hadn't ever met either of them, for I was residing in Metropolis at the time, as I've mentioned before, with the almighty and hot-headed Clark…

Anyways, I decided to hit the top of the Plaza for an early morning patrol. I had to get my mind off of..._that_ dream.

I put my suit on and jacket and headed out for the streets. It was just ten to seven in the morning.

Even while wide-awake and free of my fantasy, I still couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.

Why...the Joker?

Why not Bruce? Or Jim Gordon? Or...God, even Clark!

Why the sick minded fuck who had a passion for self-satisfaction and a world of brutality and anarchy?

I felt sick...and I dreaded that inadvertent confrontation that I'd had with him more than ever in that mere moment.

Thank God, the Plaza! ...with Bruce already there.

I made my way to the top of the building to meet my brooding companion, who wasn't new to waking in the early hours of the morning and watching perspicaciously over his city.

He was faced away from me at the time, standing near one of the gargoyle statues, yet, he still somehow knew I was right there with him.

"...Diana," he mumbled, knowing of my presence by probably using his gifted sense of hindsight.

"Oh, hi Bruce. Up early again, I see." I walked up next to him and slung my arm around him.

"I had another sleepless night…"

"Me too," I lied.

"I just can't fathom the fact that...he's back."

"I know it's hard to take, Bruce, but we'll take him down," I assured, then spontaneously re-envisioning an explicit scene from my erotic dream.

"We can't be too keen just yet, Dian. He'd nearly gotten away with everything he had set up the last time he attacked. He may be the most insidious and crazy bastard out there, but we must admit...he's clever, cunning and even, God, strike me down for saying this, _ingenious_."

"That was four years ago, Bruce...maybe the man has changed-"

"Changed? Do you really perceive that, Dian? After what happened to you last night?"

I blushed, yet again at reoccurring flashes of sex in my mind.

"No, Bruce, I'm just suggesting that-"

"He is going to incorporate something BIG...I can feel it. It's going to be treacherous, chaotic and ruthless. I fear that more of the city's people will lose their lives, just like the last time that insane freakshow had stricken Gotham."

He turned to me and gave me a serious look, then rested his broad hands on my shoulders.

"We cannot afford to be doubtful, Diana. Don't shrug off anything. Not even for a second."

His eyes darted away from me straight to the cement like freshly shot bullets. He walked off back towards the stairway.

"I have to keep this city safe. I must keep a watchful eye out, and waste absolutely no time." He stopped at the top of the stairs and gave me a final grave glance.

"No one will die this time. I'll see to it."

Then he was gone in a flash.

* * *

I remained up there for what must have been three hours. I enjoyed the isolation. The time to contemplate and try to understand myself better.

I'd come to the conclusion of understanding that I _**did not**_have any feelings whatsoever for the corrupted clown.

I'd recalled something I had learned several years earlier in a psychology class I'd taken at a community college in Metropolis, while taking a brief hiatus from my heroic duties, for Pride and

Justice on legs could handle himself and the city just fine. (Superman aka _Proud_man)

In that course, I'd discovered that our dreams don't necessary directly depict how we feel about people or things, but rather how they denote what a message is trying to tell us, a message that is just fighting to inform us of our foggy and often misinterpreted subconscious.

Perhaps my dream symbolized my _fear_ for the Joker. It was a warning. A caution. The deepest roots of my mind trying to tell me to keep a watchful eye out, and to look over my shoulder when the gut-feeling of being watching hit my instinct.

I had to be careful. The wild man of the wicked motive could do anything he wanted to me, if he had the chance. The chance he'd never be getting at again. Ever.

* * *

After an uneventful day of vacillation and perpetual angst, I knew I had to start going by what Bruce had told me. I had to play my part in protecting this city. And perching atop a building sixty to ninety feet in the air wasn't going to help me do so.

I patrolled the downtown streets of Gotham that night, starting at seven. I was more prepared this time. I was actually wearing my suit, and I had a _fully-charged _smartphone and a fresh and newly bought cartridge of mace...and a hand pistol, however only loaded with four bullets, so wise usage was essential.

I meticulously walked the dark and forbidding streets of downtown Gotham, keeping an eye out for even the slightest suspicious activity. I'd been roaming about for over half an hour before I came across some action..._finally!_

In one of the smaller alleyways I saw the silhouette of a woman and a man fighting brutally. It was my time to shine.

My initial thought was that this was a typical mugging incident. That this man was trying to get at this helpless woman's purse, and likely into her skirt as well.

I sprinted around the corner with my pistol clenched in hand. I was definitely prepared this time. It wasn't even the Joker or any of his minions I'd be dealing with anyway...but something almost even _more_ shocking.

I'd turned the corner and shouted, "Freeze!" then froze, myself. I couldn't believe what, or rather, _who_ I was seeing.

This woman was kicking this man's ass, and hard at that. Just seconds after my arrival from around the corner of the building this guy had crashed to the ground in agony, holding his manhood in an aching mess. He appeared to be a bandit, or a thief of some sort, considering his black shady-looking ski mask and a vintage-y handbag covered in sparkles clenched into his hand, that appeared to belong to...the woman, who was still on her feet, and without any struggle and even a healthy stance.

This woman hadn't seemed to have broken a sweat. She appeared to be a tad petite, maybe around 5'2 on her own, but 5'7 with the ridiculously slutty looking stilettos. You know, ones a stripper would care to flaunt.

Her clothing were hiding nothing to the imagination as well. She was wearing skin-tight, black leathery pants and a revealing V-necked belly shirt/tank top. Her hair was worn down naturally, her curls dark brown and her skin tan with a cocoa-like tinge.

The man was moaning in absolute pain, seeming to loosen up his grip on the girl's bag. Or at least he did when she boldly bent over and snatched it roughly out of his hand, then proceeding to kick him yet again on his groin.

She spat on him and swirled around to meet my eyes. I was just standing there in astonishment. I knew this woman…Her hazel cat-like eyes really gave it away.

"Nobody fucks with _me_," she declared, while striding my way.

"S-selina?"

"_Long time, no see, D._"


	7. An Old Friend of Mine

**_An Old Friend of Mine_**

I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Was it really her?

"Selina?" I repeated, almost moronically.

"Psh, no, it's your mother…" she spat on the brink of rudeness while rolling her eyes. She strutted up to me in a very pretentious manner. She slung her arms around me and brought me into a somewhat needed embrace...but only _somewhat_.

"What's it been, D? Five-six years?"

Her and I were former acquaintances and partners in heroic business in a small town in downtown San Francisco, before my work in Gotham and before Metropolis. We were fresh in our twenties, well, at least I was. She may have been just 19 at the time for she was a couple years younger than myself.

I'd chucked my friendship with her out the window when she became an excelled traitor. She had not only picked up a nasty habit of stealing from the local jewelry shop and lashing out various men with a four inch by three- feet long leather whip when she'd catch them either stealing or performing other criminal activities (though she was a fugitive herself, _ironicall_y) but she'd also whip the shit out of the guys who...wouldn't _pay up_ to her satisfaction while she prostituted...Yes, she was a _hooker_ for some time as well, but she wouldn't admit it.

Soon she started stealing from _me_. She managed to stealthily snatch most of my credit cards and use them for her personal gain _and_ she 'borrowed' a couple grand from me after spiking my drink at one of the local bars, then kept me tied up in the back of her bosses van (while she was a stripper at the local club). Although this isn't fully established, I had good reason to believe that her boss was dead, having been killed off by her herself.

I wasn't freed from the van until the next morning when a man had overheard my pleas of help. This man was Bruce Wayne. He'd evidently been in the San Fran area doing some investigating on a mysterious crime that had recently occurred.

That was how I met Bruce. Once I told him what I did for a living, he was intrigued to let me tag along with him back to Gotham to work with him over there. I suppose I was in a way, his sidekick, which wasn't of my personal preference, for I preferred leading myself, but I was falling hard for Bruce and would gladly accept the pat on the back I'd receive after helping him put a halt to criminality. I'd even blush when he'd call me a "rookie."

I suppose if Selina hadn't screwed me over big time that day, I'd've never met Bruce. Perhaps it was fate, and just maybe her devious ways were for the best, but nonetheless, she was still no friend to me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, while not returning a gratuitous arm wrap. I wanted her out, out of my town and expelled from my life. She was a femme, temptress bitch. A whore, a pansy and a fool.

She lit a cigarette, for she was still apparently lighting up, and likely still on a chained-basis.

"Just thought I'd try out a new area, Di. I needed some new scenery, ya know?"

"And where have you been?"

"...Everywhere."

That was all I needed to hear. She was a traveler, never in one place too long. Well, she could go ahead and go on about her business now, because I did not want her in my life any longer.

"Well, goodbye," I stated, ready to move on and head back to my apartment for the night. She stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh, c'mon, Dian! You're not still mad about that little spiff and spat we had back in the day, are ya?"

I glared an evil eye her way. "Spiff and spat?! Selina, you _fucked_ me over! Stole everything I had! I trusted you!"

"Pff, trust ain't nothing but a word, sweetheart. You ought to know not to trust me, honey. You ever watch the X-files? Remember when Mulder's like official quota became 'Trust-no-one'? Well, he's right, Di. You should have never trusted me."

"Which is why I'm getting the hell away from you. I'm never going to deal with your lousy whore-ass again."

"Damn D, what's it gonna take for you to turn the other cheek?

"Just stay away from me." I began to walk off, for real this time. I'd almost made it an estimated thirty paces before she had yet again given me a reason to stop and turn my attention back to her.

"How's the Brooder doing?"

_How the hell did she know Bruce?!_

"What?!"

"Bruce! How is he?"

"...A-and how do you know Bruce?!" I practically trampled back her way, fearing for the worst answer imaginable.

"Ha, uh, how do I know him? I _know_ the stygian son of a bitch quite well, actually. Ya see, we had something...he hmm...happen a few years back."

Dear God...no, no way. She was lying. She had to be.

"Care to clarify?" I asked while crossing my arms in dismay.

She sashayed in closer to me, in an annoying and silly fashion. She leaned in and giggled, "_We fucked_," in my ear.

I shoved her away from me. Not only was this nefarious bitch a defiant wench but also a compulsive liar? Wait, why was I shocked? This was _Catwoman_, the most delusive skank to walk, or rather, _strut_, the lands.

"You lying bitch."

"Oh, what? You don't believe me?"

"Of course I don't! Why the hell would I? Why would _Bruc_e do anything with a woman of _your_ kind?!"

She flashed a wisenheimer smile and winked. "I was wondering the same thing."

Then she walked off into the night, leaving me in an antagonized mess.

* * *

I didn't care that it was nearly 11:00 at night. I had to go to Bruce's place and ask him what the deal was, and to find out whether he did have relations with Selina or not.

I'd made my way into the Gotham Heights and headed for Bruce's room. Maybe I was being a bit too paranoid about all of this, but my conscience ceased to rest without knowing the truth.

I knocked loudly on his door, not even sure whether or not he was even home. He certainly was a night owl, or rather, a night-bat, if you get my gist. He lived for the moonlight. It was his best friend, aside from Jim Gordon and I. I believed that he felt a certain very strong connection for the midnight sky. Like it just gave off a powerful essence that he couldn't resist. Like he had to be out there to witness it…

...but that was not the case tonight, for a minute later he opened the door, his eyes droopy as if just waking from slumber and nothing but a white tank top and boxers on.

"Diana?"

"Let me in, Bruce. We need to talk." I hated being so determined, but Selina's speech was reciting again and again in my head and I was losing it.

"Oh, uh, huh...alright." He pushed the door more open for me and I stepped inside. He groggily walked over to his closet and retrieved a robe to put on.

Once he had taken a seat in his armchair, I decided to cut to the chase of my visit.

"Did you sleep with Catwoman?"

His eyes went wide just then. He gave me a startled look, not to my dismay.

"Catwoman? Diana, why do you-"

"She's here, Bruce. I saw her tonight. She told me that you and her had-"

"What?! She's _back_?!"

He had me at _back_.

"So...you did date her, then."

He stood up and nervously paced back and forth in bewilderment and notable angst.

"Diana...it was three years ago. You were in Metropolis, and we weren't-"

"I know, Bruce. I know where I was. Don't think me an idiot, now."

"You sound tense."

"Wha-well, you're damn right I'm tense! I just found out that you have banged the biggest slut of all time!

"She _needed_ me, Diana," he nearly growled, almost making it sound as a plead.

"Needed you?! For what? Sex with the big and famous superhero? She'd _had it_ with the Mob Bosses?"

"Just drop it. It's all over now."

"Then why so agape? You're the tense one, Bruce. You know you'll be facing her very soon, if not tonight."

"No, no, she wouldn't come here-"

"She would." His eyes met mine. He no longer looked exhausted. Not at all. He was wide awake and keen on perception.

I gloomily shrugged.

"I better get out of your way. She'll be here soon."

He grabbed me and pushed me down onto his couch in an attempt to halt my dismissal.

"Bruce!"

"Listen to me, Diana," he curtly ordered. "She had deceived me. She implied that she was one of _us_. A do-gooder. A _hero_."

He sighed and stepped back while glueing his dark blue eyes to the floor and smoothing his dark hair back.

"She was here for me when you weren't. Call me arrogant, Dian, but she _replaced_ you. And I really _needed_ you."

"Shut up, Bruce. You know that my leaving this city was the best thing I could do-"

"No, Diana, you were marvelous. Don't ever think that Gotham can thrive alright without your attendance."

"But after some time you _and_ Gotham did do fine without me. You had her, and she must've done something to win over your doting affection."

"When I _trusted_ her, Diana! I overlooked everything about her. I'd payed for giving her my respect and honor." He gruffly took a seat next to me while groaning in the process.

"...She robbed out Konner's Jewels and the bank on south end clean...as well as taking from me."

I was seeing a connection here.

"Once I'd made discovery of her stealthy misjustices, you know what I felt obligated to do. I almost had her too, almost had her captured and ready to lock up in the Blackgate prison, but she had just...lost it. Lost herself. She fell apart Diana."

He stood and stretched. He shot his eyes back into mine.

"She did need me. For some time. She was a mess. Maybe she wanted to make amends to her indecorous lifestyle-"

"Alright, Bruce. I've heard enough." I didn't want to hear anymore about this untrustworthy bitch.

I stood and brushed past Bruce. He did nothing to stop me. He knew I now despised this whore just as he did. We both had to keep a watchful eye out.

A _very_ watchful eye.


	8. His Decoy

**_His Decoy_**

Did I sleep well that night?

No. Not at all.

All these new and sudden entities were being thrown into my life, and I was not liking it.

First there was _him_. The goddamn Joker. He was haunting my conscience as well as subconscious. I was afraid to fall asleep because of him. That previous night. The capturing, how he knew who I was, how he threatened me, how he grabbed me, touched me...It made me feel ill, physically and emotionally. The dark way he laughed, with heightened spontaneity. His obsession with Bruce. His desire to uncover him. Throw off his black cloak and armor, his symbolistic mask. To see his eyebrows, forehead, cheeks and ears. All of his hidden parts. All the parts I got to see everyday. He must have been somewhat jealous, if not _very_ jealous.

There was one thing that really got me though.

Why didn't he kill me? I'd refused giving up Bruce repeatedly. He must've known that I wasn't going to speak, although I'd briefly considered it, but only briefly...when he was holding that blade against my neck. Not to mention the short wavering when he had a firm grip on my bare buttox. That was quite overwhelming.

Then there was _her_. Selina Kyle. In outspoken honesty I must confirm that I loathed her arrival back into my life more than the clown's up close and personal confrontation with me. His intense and blatantly intimate pressing against me, and even his notable erection pressed against my waistline. Oh, GOD, the blushing and awkwardness was unbearable...but I stand by what I'm saying.

Selina was the bitch. A bitch. A whore. A floozy. A temptress deceiver. It shocked me little that she had screwed Bruce over as well as me. She was unstable, and she thrived on stealth, sluttery and criminality. That was her ego. Her calling. Her way of life.

But Bruce really got to me when he said that she _needed_ him. Needed him how so? Was she submissively drawn to his mysterious and alluring demeanor? His tall and strengthened body? His deep and serious tone? His intelligence? Or all four?

Or was there something more to this? Maybe she just wanted him for just being a man. A man who would lend his trust and ultimately his love.

Well, no matter the case, she was still not to be trusted. And now that the two gruesome agents of anarchy were hitting the streets of Gotham, Bruce and I would have to work our asses off to keep this city safe. Who knew what the hardcore sinners were planning. I'd definitely be sticking with Bruce much more often.

I could no longer risk acting out on my heroic duties in isolation anymore. Gotham was in imminent danger. Bruce may have not wanted to admit it, but at least I was forthright enough to.

* * *

I could no longer stand it when I was tossing and turning in between my sheets at 1:30 in the morning. It was time to shrug off my angst-filled subconscious mind. I was due for some shuteye.

I threw the covers to my side and practically sprung out of bed, seeming to be not fatigued in the slightest.

I got my Nyquil out of my bathroom cabinet and filled the cap-line up to 20 ml's and drank it up quickly, for I absolutely hated the taste. After a good five minutes of gagging and removing some of my leftover eye makeup that was smearing around my eyes like a racoon, I tucked my way back into bed, with hope that maybe I'd be out in minutes or less.

My alarm went off at 9:00 that next morning. I'd managed to pass out supposedly minutes after my hit of Nyquil. I crawled out of bed sluggishly from the cold medicine still prevalent in my system.

After I'd gotten out of my shower with a fresh towel wrapped around me, the phone rang. It was Bruce.

Apparently, he was hell-bent on a citywide patrol, as I had presumed he was. I told him I'd meet him at the city's Square in half an hour.

I put on my suit that I'd just removed less than ten hours earlier. I figured I'd wearing it a lot more often now, considering the inevitable and fast approaching criminal activity awaiting.

Now Bruce had a tendency to get just a bit too serious about things, such as this citywide patrol. I knew he'd be absolutely dedicated to doing all he, or rather, _we_, could do to prevent hell from passing through this city again, for it had run its fair course far too many times.

I left my apartment at around 9:40. On my way to the Square, I couldn't help but get a nasty feeling in my gut. Like I knew I was really in for danger that day. It was almost like this sudden premonition I had, minus any visuals.

Nevertheless, I had to contribute my efforts alongside my best man. I had chosen to do this after all, years earlier, when I was more ambitious and free willed. Now, however, I definitely could have settled for just being a columnist. You know, a normal woman. Just going to Starbucks every morning and going out with friends. Maybe dating wouldn't hurt either. Pushing thirty really gets a woman like myself thinking about her future as a potential mother. Having a family, motherly responsibilities, a hard-working husband. I recalled the time when I thought that maybe Bruce and

I would make a family of our own. Ha, the thought of being in a beautiful and expensive white satin dress with Bruce by my side in a tux, with a diamond ring around my finger and eternal vows to represent our love and faith...to be Diana _Wayne_...it just seemed silly now. Far too unlikely. Even unrealistic.

Bruce was not geared up as I'd expected he'd be. He was dressed normally, in a suit and no mask with a brief case by his side. I now felt kind of funny in my moderately pretentious gear. I wrapped my baggy jacket completely around me to fully cover up my suit.

He was seated contently on a bench by the water fountain. Once he saw me coming his way, he gave a slight smile and met my eyes.

"Bruce." I took a seat next to him and crossed my legs. He was silent at first, probably just enjoying the calm silence and distant chirping of birds in our atmosphere.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked, enjoying the peace and quiet next to my best friend but also feeling a strong desire to put a stop to the potential threats we were to face-very soon.

"Right now, Dian, we remain calm, but we may only do so until tonight, at around 7:00 or 8. That's when we'll need to be tense. I know the Joker likely and _hopefull_y doesn't have plans of striking until around that time, the same going for...her."

"Speaking of _her_, did she swing by your place last night?" I felt it necessary to ask. He shook his head in relief.

"Thankfully, no. I am assuming that she just got here recently. She's probably looking for a place to settle down."

"Pfft, well, she could always crash at your place," I bluntly threw in, almost unintentionally.

"Diana, I told you that her and I are ov-"

"You can say that for now, Bruce, but things just might change. She seemed to be highly concerned with you anyway, so I know damn well that she'll be coming for you anytime soon."

"_I am through with her_." He made that almost sound as a curt order.

"If you believe so, Bruce."

Silence broke in between us. Uncomfortable silence. It was almost as if discussing Catwoman made things rough between Bruce and I. She had technically screwed us both, after all.

I was not about to let that bitch come between us and ruin our friendship. Absolutely not. I loved Bruce. Platonically. Powerfully. Sometimes passionately. I couldn't let our bond be torn apart from a mere whore. I abstained from allowing the name 'Selina' escape my lips throughout the rest of each other's company.

"C'mon, Dian. Want some coffee?" he asked while taking a stand.

"Sure."

He took my hand and we headed out to the nearby Biggby. The small coffee shop was filling up quickly. It was that time of the morning, after all. We waited amiably at the back of the long line, contemplating on what flavor to get. I was usually for the caramel, while Bruce, as you can assume, was for the regular, with just a bit of sugar and no cream.

"I value these moments, Bruce. The moments where we're dressed normally, well, at least you are, for I've still got my hero suit on…"

He smiled.

"It makes me feel almost normal. Ya know? It's a great feeling."

"I can relate entirely, Dian."

"It's nice not having to protect this city. Just to having a normal morning." But that was all about to go down the drain, for there was a News alert flashed suddenly on the screen, interrupting the Ellen DeGeneres show.

"_This just in, it appears that the Blackgate city bank has been broken into by ten disguised men, wearing clown-like masks and they are dressed in suits. This reflects an almost identical incident that occurred at around this time in 2008."_

Bruce gruffly sighed. "You're going to have to hold that thought, Diana."

"_So far, none of the thieves have been caught and four of the police officers sent have been injured, while one has died."_

Bruce grabbed my hand and dragged me out all in a quick and nearly blinding flash.

"That's our queue."

"Wait Bruce, maybe we shouldn't rush into this right away, I mean, don't you think that he's expecting us-"

"I don't care. We must act. Like I said, Diana, we're going to keep this city safe. We're going to fight for freedom, whether that comes with strenuous debate or not."

"You're not even _properly_ dressed, Bruce!"

He proved me wrong by pulling his mask out of his suitcase. _Of course_ he was prepared.

"Recant that consideration, Dian. I'm _always_ ready to stand before the face of danger."

He pulled me into an alleyway and slipped his mask on, in the shadows as he always prefered. He then proceeded to remove his suit, for apparently he was already sporting his super suit underneath, taking me by surprise anyway.

He then stalked out swift as ever, in an absolute rush to get to Blackgate, seeming to completely overlook my warning.

I caught up with him and attempted dynamically to get him to think twice about his actions that were far too contrary to stubbornness.

I mean, what it have _killed_ the man to be just a bit hesitant?

Yes, it probably would have.

"Bruce, you need to think about what you're doing! We can't just throw ourselves into this! It's

bound to be a trap! We need to stop and collaborate a plan, at least-"

He abruptly halted in his tracks and spun around to face me. He grabbed my shoulders and bore his eyes into mine, frighteningly serious.

"_Listen to me, Diana_," he practically growled. "I vowed to protect this city from the sick and twisted antics of him. The fucking schizophrenic fool. I must stand by what I said. I must act on quickly with this. There is no time for hesitation, Diana. People lost their lives the last time this asshole reigned over this city with his destructive ways, and he wouldn't hold back from killing again. Don't you see what he's trying to do? He's trying to bring _me_ out. So, yes, I realize quite clearly that he's trying to lure me in, and I'm willing to walk right into his decoy, escape whatever barricade he chucks at me, then bring down this bitch for good."

He turned around and began marching off.

"I'll kill the bastard if I must."

I then knew that I could do nothing to stop him.

I sighed and paced forward. _If you can't beat them, join them._

* * *

We were at the Blackgate bank just minutes later. Police, ambulances and the press were all over the place, all on the outside, of course, no one dared go in at this point.

Of course everyone's attention was drawn to the two of us upon arrival, of course Bruce gaining a few more stares than myself.

The press hesitated not to rush over to us throw their questions, that we had absolutely no time to answer.

Bruce grasped my hand and we swiftly and somewhat harshly brushed past everyone. We had to get inside immediately.

Once we were in, we were standing in mere silence, the room completely vacant. There was broken glass from the windows everywhere, as well as a few leftover hundred dollar bills scampered around the floor and, to Bruce's and my own anguish, a couple of seemingly dead accountants, one having taken a shot through the head and the other the shoulder.

Bruce frustratingly sighed while I rushed over to one of the wounded, or dead, accountants, seeming to have taken a bullet to the right shoulder.

I knelt down by the elderly man whose face was grimaced and a pool of blood was around his shoulder. He groaned and tried to lean upwards, only to crash back downwards.

"Hey! Carry this man out to the paramedics now! I'll go and find the asshole's who did this."

He rushed over and helped the man up and slung his uninjured arm around his side and hurriedly headed for the door.

"You stay here and wait for my return. Going up there alone is far too risky," he clarified, then threw the door open and headed outside for the ambulance.

I had my gun ready at my side, just in case any of these prick's were to come back down into the main room. I decided to see of just maybe by miraculous luck the other victim was alive. I warily inspected him from a ten-foot distance then tensely made my way over to him. He looked _bad_. It seemed that he had been shot on the side of his head just above his left ear.

I knelt down and felt for a pulse anyways, to feel only a numb, stiff and beatless wrist.

_Those assholes! _

I felt sick to my stomach. All for money? God forbid they got legal jobs and work their way up to earning a goddamn salary…

Bruce was back in about a minute later. I noticed a bit of blood already smeared on his cape. Our job was already getting messy.

"I believe he'll be alright. The paramedics are tending to him as we spe-"

Suddenly, we heard a loud crash coming from the upstairs followed by an array of gunshots. Well, at least now we knew where the fugitives were.

"_Jesus Christ_," Bruce grumbled, notably pissed, while I was more frightened than that.

He rushed for the flight of stairs from which the gunshots came. I attempted to follow, only to of course be stopped by the overprotective Bruce.

"Take the other flight, Dian. Investigate the east side. And be careful."

I rolled my eyes and turned around and headed the other way. I supposed that the bad guys were all split up, just gathering all the money they could from the various routes of the place. So hey, I guess

I wasn't _completely_ safe. I'd likely brag to Bruce about this later on when things settled down.

I made my way up the East stairway, with my .19mm still grasped cautiously at my side, ready to cock and trigger away at any given second.

This floor's hallway seemed clear, except for a few loose bucks spread across the floor, almost in a clear trial. I shocked me that these pigs didn't bother to stop and gather the cash that they had spilled, then again, they probably didn't even notice. They were too adrenaline-filled and hell-bent on making their way to their next destination to collect even more loot. The greedy fucks.

I heard nothing but my own shallow breaths and my tip-toed footsteps. I was becoming increasingly wary by the minute. At any moment one of those freaks could have popped out of nowhere and taken me captive. I refused to fall victim like I had the other night. I was prepared this time. My pistol was loaded to the brink and I was far from vulnerable.

I had to go by what Bruce had said earlier. "_I'm always ready to stand before the face of danger_."

Bruce's word's of wisdom could help me get through this. I could do this. I just had to believe, or rather, _know_ I could.

I turned onto a long hallway with many doors. They all had numbers, appearing to start from Rm. 104 and went on from there. I assumed I was in haven for this hall. It was clear and there were nothing but many aligned doors and a single video camera on the wall in the middle of the hall.

I must have just walked past room 118 when I heard the door right behind me open quickly. Someone had stepped out and grabbed ahold of me before I had the chance to retaliate.

I'd dropped my only decent weapon in spite of shock and sudden panic. It was perhaps the largest unintentional mistake of my life. I was dragged into room 118 and tossed to the floor of the dark room.

I landed hard on my rear and barely managed to break my fall with my shaken, flimsy hands. The door was slammed shut and I heard a pair of keys lock it up. I scrambled onto my feet and backed away a few paces, my stomach knotted up and my throat dry.

Suddenly the light was flicked on.

I'd then met the brown eyes of the makeup-wearing freakshow, his wavy naturally dark brown hair tingled green-yellow and down with a dark-purplish suit on. Not to mention the always prevalent switch-blade grasped in his hand.

"_Oh, fuck!" _I couldn't abstain from grumbling as he walked casually towards me.

"We're gonna have some _fun_, baby."


	9. Fun

**_Fun _**

I had failed myself. I was yet again vulnerable to this freak. His was inching closer to me, literally _inching_ closer to me, really taking his time, not saving me from any torment.

"Ya weren't expectin' to see me, were ya?" he sneered, while fumbling around the blade in his right hand.

"Stay away from me."

"Or what?" he teased, while increasing his momentum. "You're a nervous little thing. You won't admit to it, but you are afraid of me. I saw how you let your only little weapon go, just like tha_t_." He put extra emphasis on that final T.

He was just a few feet away from me now. I was pressed firmly against the wall by the large window pane, just praying that I could somehow escape his inclosure and escape out the window. This seemed to be an impossible plan, however, that doesn't mean I didn't try.

He wouldn't take his hazel hues off of me for a second. I was his full focus. I feared I'd be throwing my life off a cliff and into a nasty demise by what I was about to do.

I had to try. I glanced over his shoulder and put on the best acting I could manage by putting on a shocked expression and pointing, as if to indicate that there was something shocking behind him that I was trying to warn him about.

To my surprise, he did glance around his shoulder. I then sprinted to the window to my right, only to be slammed against it right off the bat.

Oh, he wasn't looking over his shoulder to check and see if there really was something there, no, he was preparing to stop my escape as it had turned out. He was apparently one (or perhaps many) steps ahead of me.

I struggled against him from behind. My cheek was pressed tightly against the cool pane as were my breasts, torso, waist and thighs, while my hands were being restrained around my back as if they were about to be locked into handcuffs.

It was like I had made the jump off of the cliff, but I survived the fall, with permanent paralyzation and a loss of dignity.

"No, no, what do ya think you're doing? I'm not done with you." He nuzzled his nose into my hair inhaling and exhaling deliberately.

"W-what do you want from me?" I mustered, on edge, on the _very_ edge.

"Right now?" he asked, while pausing his outlandish nudging. My knees were on the verge of giving out once he placed his right hand on my ass, apparently his favorite part of me.

"I want to get this cute little suit of yours _off_," he chuckled sadistically, while I squirmed madly.

"I know it's Batman you want. He's here you know, and he's going to find you in here any time now, and he's going to kick your pathetic, asinine, schizophrenic _ass_," I growled suddenly audacity consumed, and more pissed than afraid.

He feared not. He pressed me even harder against the pane, making me more numb by the second. My heart raced, my breathing paced second after second and I was hyperventilating, but I wasn't about to admit it.

"Yes, honey, I know he's here, and I know exactly where he is right this moment. Don't you see where we are?"

He suddenly pulled me away from the unforgiving glass and swirled me around to get a proper glance of the room. We were in one of the security rooms. There were screens displaying a vast majority of the rooms in the Eastern and Western routes of the building, including the hallway right outside. That was how he managed to grab me so quickly. He had been watching Bruce and I the whole damn time.

"Shit…" I mumbled in spite of fear for Bruce and major disappointment. He began laughing in fits of hysteria, the bonkered prick.

"You're a fucking nuisance. I hope you know that," I complied, really not thinking things through too well, at all.

I heard his blade switch on and he bent his right elbow upwards so his weapon could meet my neck.

"What can I say? I live for pissing people off, Diana. It's my calling." He twirled me around to face him. I was slammed against the nearest wall in a blinding flash. My whole day so far seemed to be composed of plenty of those.

"How would you like me to deepen that little cut I gave you the other night?" he growled into my ear.

I decided to remain silent. I had no interest in sporting an ugly and evident scar that'd look like a hickey gone terribly wrong.

"_Or _I could just start fresh somewhere else on your beautiful body," he threatened, while now holding the blade against my cheek, perhaps about to give me a permanent smile, if you know what I mean.

"I'll do as you say," I reluctantly gave in. Removing the blade that was held just an inch from my left cheek didn't seem to be his first priority, however.

"I want to get to know ya better," he stated.

"What?!"

"You never told me how you got _your_ scars."

"You never told me how you got yours," I reasoned, almost wanting him to comply.

He rolled his eyes around the ceiling and frowned as if contemplating.

"...When I was fifteen, I had a ahhh...very depressed friend. All he'd think about was suicide, suicide, suicide. God, was he miserable. His wrists were fuckin' slit to the palms, baby. He'd be popping pills like there was no tomorrow. And I felt a little bad for the fucker. I gave him my condolences...my empathy...my _kindness…_"

I scoffed at _that_ bullshit.

"So one night I woke up and there he was, at my bedside, knife clenched in hand. He had murder in his eyes. He was cold. Dead. Psychopathically-"

"What _you_ are now," I felt obligated to break in. He tightened his grip on me, cutting off even more circulation in my upper arms.

"He had his heart set on killing me, it seemed. I had no chance to get away, Diana. He was on top of me in a flash, and he carved right into my face, doin_g this here_-"

He grabbed my right hand and forced it onto his scarred cheek, making me feel the bumps and grooves of both of his scars.

"Bullshit."

He slapped me, instead of swiping his blade against my cheek or neck, to my counted blessings.

"He did his face too. More damage to himself than me, in fact."

"So then what? Did he jump out the window and you never saw him again?" I sarcastically added, while he pathetically went with the flow.

"Didn't realize you were so intuitive."

I insultingly spat on his face. I'd had my fill.

Wiping off my spit from his cheek was apparently not his first priority.

"You're a bold one, aren't ya?" he mustered, while yet again feeling up my behind.

"Christ, I can't wait for _him_ to come in here and beat the shit out of you!" I nearly shouted, while really struggling to get the hell out of his arms.

"Damn, you have big eyes," he randomly threw in, probably trying to distract me from struggling.

"And those tits…"

You can imagine that I blushed at that little remark. Like a ripe tomato.

"What are those? C 36? 38?"

"Oooh fuck you," I growled, as he nudged his face into my cleavage.

_Where the hell are you, Bruce?! Come on! _My mind screamed as he just continued to advance on me. I had to improvise, for doing nothing would eventually lead to getting myself raped by this sick piece of shit.

"D-don't you want to know how I got _my_ s-scars?" I implied, while he paused, his nose dug into my décolletage.

He drew his eyes on me from top to bottom as if giving me a thorough inspection.

"So, where are they?" he asked suspiciously. He wrapped his hands around my torso and grasped the hooking of my suit, about to undo it.

"Looks like I'm going to have to remove some clothing to see your wounds…"

"No, my scars are psychological!" I quickly reasoned, receiving a raised eyebrow initiating both interest and curiosity.

"So what, you've never fought hard enough to take on a few lifelong scrapes?"

"Oh, mental pain is far more powerful, and longer-lasting," I admitted, keeping him interested.

"Oh Diana, you have no idea of how wrong you are," he grumbled, while again placing his hand on my jawline and grasping with painful tightness.

_Goddamn it, Bruce! Where are you?!_

"No, it's true. I've been through so much turmoil in my life," I declared, panting from fear, as he scanned my body, seeming to look for a decent spot to slice me on.

He shoved me to the floor. I was unable to gain balance once out of his arms and I'd made another nasty crash to the ground. He stepped over me, each foot aside my knees.

"Tell me then. Give me a rational example of your oh-so haunted life. Prove to me that you are misery's _bitch_."

He stepped on each side of my baggy jacket and kept me in my place to prevent me from scrambling away. I had some secrets to preach.

"Well, I lost my father when I was thirteen, and-"

"Boo fucking hoo," he growled, chuckling a bit towards the end, the cruel bastard.

"Shut up! My mom was suicidal after his departure, and my sister took off. I rarely ever see her now and-"

"Ah, I see. Family problems. Psh, here I thought maybe you were raped or abused by some prick out there-"

"Fuck you, you unsympathetic piece of shit. What right do you have to judge others for their vexations? Who do you think you are? You may be clever, witty, and even powerful to an extent, but you'll never be respected or loved. Kill me if you'd like, but know that you are pathetic."

I met his eyes from six feet above me. He did not look irritated, but rather understanding. I dared not to move. I figured he'd be lashing at me any second then. He was just waiting. I don't know what for, but there was something going on in that eccentric mind of his.

I don't know what took me so damn long to realize this, but I had perhaps a beautiful chance to jolt my leg forward to his manhood. I took the opportunity with no more refutable obligation.

His left leg shot to his crotch and he clenched his teeth in affliction. He stepped back just enough to free me from being pinned down by my own jacket. I scrambled back wildly and just managed to regain my stance before he pounced for me, bringing me back down to meet the tiles.

He had all his weight on me, probably not much over 170 pounds. He swiped his knife a couple inches on my thigh, making me yelp out in pain.

"You've got a little _fight_ in you," he growled in my right ear while taking the lobe into his mouth. "I _like_ that," he finished while breathing heavily on my ear. Blood ran down my thigh as tears ran down my face.

"How would ya like me to do your face, now? Huh?" He slapped me, bare handed with his purple gloves set aside.

"How would you like it if I fucked up your pretty little face?"

He drew his face inches from mine, panting on my lips. His makeup was partially smeared and even dried up, appearing to crack and chip away on his forehead and cheekbones. His breath smelled of the essence of a cigar or wood burning, not entirely pleasant, but admittedly not terrible either.

Struggling got me nowhere, for his next move on me involved a quick-to-act kiss. He pressed his lips to mine in a hurried passion. I fought to keep my lips closed, strongly detesting the thought of him having his tongue in my mouth, much to his wanting.

He continuously turned his head back and forth, opening and closing his lips in the process, waging to pry my lips open so he could slip his tongue past my lips and taste me.

"_C'mon! Come on…" _he grumbled while now holding my face in his hands. I fought beyond endurance to keep his teeth from pressing against mine. I twisted and yanked my head away from him, hot tears pooling around my eyes. This man was breaking me. I had promised earlier that I would not let him do that, but now it was the inimical truth.

I felt an overwhelming sense of relief when Bruce **finally** busted the door down. He stepped in valiantly and dropped two of the Joker's henchmen to the ground, both out cold.

He then wasted no time to pull out his 'batarang' as he called it, and shoot one off right into the Joker's upper left arm. He was thrown off of me in sudden agony, while I could make a stand.

"Took ya long enough…" the Joker grumbled, while putting on one of his usual sadistic and shrewd smiles.

I scurried like a frightened woman of absolutely no sense of defense or justification whatsoever over to Bruce and held on securely to his side. He, of course completely unafraid and not intimidated by his commonplaced rival in the slightest, kept his weapon aimed at the corruptive clown who was slowly backing away on all fours towards the window.

I, being shaken up and violated more than ever before in my life, was defiant about what I wanted to be done with the psychopathic freak.

"K-kill him! Shoot the fucker now!" I mustered, tightening my grip on his muscular arm. Bruce had a little self-establishment, however. He vowed never to take anyone's life, no matter their level of brutality towards society. He was no killer. No slayer. No murderer.

The Joker stopped just below the window pane and rested against the wall.

"So, which one of my apparent _disloyal_ workers gave away my location?" he inquired, while pulling Bruce's nicely impaled disk out of his arm followed by a slight grunt of pain.

"This is your end of the line. Your days of chaotic merriment are over," Bruce declared, while his, or rather, _our_ foe began cracking up, as usual.

"_My_ end of the line?! Please, Bats, the race hasn't even begun!"

He then reached into his pocket and tossed a small device towards the middle of the room. Seconds later, the top of it snapped open and smoke gushed out of it and filled the air with thick and very cloudy gusts.

The room filled with opaque smoke fast, blinding us from any view of the Joker. All we heard were his obnoxious cackles, as he managed to escape out the window.

Of course Bruce still fought relentlessly through the smoke, having his courageous heart set on capturing this outlandish villain. The Joker had made his escape too soon, however, leaving Bruce to pound on the wall and curse in frustration once the smoke had cleared up.

Bruce and I got the chance to talk things over once everything was settled down and we were outside the bank. The police went in and got ahold of seven of the ten goons who were reporting to the Freak's assignment of robbing Blackgate out clean. Three men did make an escape, unfortunately…

Bruce had told me that he had fought with four of the captured men in room 235 in the West side of the building. Apparently, getting any of them to speak on the Joker's plans was ridiculously strenuous, for they all kept silent despite Bruce's often effective beating habits.

He claimed that one had taken five or six head-slams to a metal desk before finally shouting, "okay! Okay! He's hiding out in room 118 in the East side!" Bruce, of course, had still felt it necessary to knock him out like he did the others, to my agreement.

Bruce obviously shook his head in disgust at my tale of how the clown almost had his way with me. Of course, he stated his recommendations, if not requirments, for me the next time we'd have a run-in with the agent of chaos.

"I want you to stay away from this tyrannical asshole, Diana. You let _me_ deal with this freak show."

"I can handle him, Bruce. I need to help you put him away for good-"

"No, Dian. You've already risked your life twice with this clown-"

"So, what? Third time's a charm? He'd kill me on our next confrontation? No, Bruce, he doesn't want to kill me...He just..._wants me_," it disgusted me to utter that last part.

Bruce shot me one of his usual serious looks of denotation.

"And if you don't want him, then he won't hesitate to take your life."


	10. Scars Last Forever

**_Scars Last Forever_**

I knew what Bruce was getting at. He saw me as weak and incapable to fend for myself properly. I couldn't really blame him after what just happened in there. I couldn't lift 200 pounds with one arm like he could. I couldn't even lift much over 50 pounds, I'd say.

"Do you think he'll strike again later on?" I asked, assuming myself that he just might, but I wanted to hear what Bruce had to say.

"Probably not today, but we can't be too sure. The man's chock-full of ambition with an always abundant need to dominate. He'll be back doing something outrageous, I'm afraid." He stood and patted my shoulder empathetically.

"That wound on your thigh isn't something you should shrug off, Diana. Do you want to go to the hospital?"

_Oh yeah, I really wanted to get right to a doctor. That would really show Bruce just how tough I really was._

"No, Bruce. I'm okay. I'll just get back to my apartment and clean up," I stated, while he didn't really seem to accept that answer, but he remained silent.

"Really, I'll be fine. You should go and look for him," I suggested, really wanting _him_ put behind well-restrained bars _that day_. The last thing I needed was him seeking out my place and chucking another rape attempt at me. I didn't fancy his resolute tendencies to cut me up either, and I'd've passed up that kissing session any day.

He looked up and shadily glanced around, likely wondering where the hell the Joker ran off to. I was doubting that he went off back into the hideout he kept me in a couple nights earlier. I had stronger doubts that he left the city. Bruce was correct. He'd be striking again anytime soon.

"Right, Dian. I best be off. Who knows what the hell that bastard is collaborating next." He kissed my forehead and took off. I stood and nearly stumbled, feeling dizzy from the loss of blood and lack of nutrition from fasting all morning. Well, it was nearly 1:00 now, but I really needed to get back my place to wash up and see the extent of damage the circus reject left on my hip.

I wrapped my long jacket securely around me and headed down Pillage street. I must've just made my way past the South lane when I heard a familiar voice call after me.

"Hey, Dian! _Hey, _over here!"

_Oh shit! Not her…_

I continued my stride, pretending that I did not hear anything or anyone, not to her acceptance, of course.

She honked from a distance of about thirty feet. I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder and spotted her silver convertible. I kept walking. I couldn't trust her. Not again.

She drove up by me, really narrowing my chances of escaping her presence. I was nearly jogging away with edgy anticipation. She was now just feet aside from me.

"C'mon, Di, ya can't just completely expel me from your life. I made one little mistake and you-"

"One little mistake?!" I retorted while stopping in my tracks and facing the negligent bitch. "No, Selina, you really fucked me! You stole all of my clothes! All of my jewelry and credit cards! Hacked my bank account-"

"Hey, now, I didn't steal _all _of your clothes, Dian-"

"Oh, pardon me, you left my drabby jeans with holes and a couple of my old tank tops from Goodwill along with the old beat-up Nike sneakers!"

"Chillax, honey. I'm a reformed woman."

"Bullshit!" That was like the third or fourth time I'd had to say that that day.

"Just give me one more chance, Diana."

"No."

"Come on, please, I need to talk to you."

"About what? How you plan on taking everything I own now?"

"Calm down and get in. You know that you can walk out of my life anytime ya like."

"Then I'll act on that opportunity right now." I began to walk off yet again...until she hollered, "I'll tell ya what I did with Bruce!" That, for some reason, got the best of me. I just had to know how and why they were together.

I turned around and sighed. I slowly headed for her car while she smirked as if welcoming me. I got in, my pistol still at my side, just in case she tried to pull anything nasty.

"I need to get back to my place." I told her. I'd be getting out at least half a mile from my apartment to prevent her from knowing where I resided, for obvious reasons.

"Whoa, what's with that gnarly scape on your hip?"

Damn, I'd forgotten to cover it up once I got in.

"I-um, had an unfortunate morning call of duty, and happened to get a little roughened up in the process."

"Oh, you mean like the bank robbing incident? Let me guess, you and BW headed right for good ol' Blackgate upon hearing it was broken into by the clownish bandits."

"...Yes."

"So, is that scratch self-inflicted or did something give it to you as a gift of defense?"

"Huh, alright, the fucking Joker did this to me. He took out his beloved switchblade and got artsy on my skin. Now, let's exit this course of conversation and get on the one where you tell me how you and Bruce happened."

"Whoa, slow down now, I'm getting to it. So, like three years ago I came here to, I dunno, explore, maybe live a new life, take on a different lifestyle. Anyways, I decided to pose as this sweetheart who was on the Good side."

"What made you do this?" I asked suspiciously, probably having the capability to figure that out for myself, however.

"For Batman of course! I was crushing on the dark knight hard, D. I mean, I was falling head over heels for his mysterious charisma. I met up with him, told him who I was, what I did, ya know, with just a sprinkle of exaggeration…"

"Or full-blown lies," I corrected.

"Whatever, so I wasn't doing...incredible mentally. I had my good days, and I had my bad ones. And my days where I just couldn't hold down a beautiful chance to shove a pair of thongs or an eyeliner down my pants without paying for it...ah, then that 10 carat necklace at the museum, the one shipped in from Guatemala...I had to have it, Dian."

"OK, so you're saying that you just _had_ to be a stealthy klepto. That that is a necessity for you."

"To a point, D, or maybe even a tee."

"You're such a derelict bitch, Selina. I'm sorry, but you are-" I stopped, for I'd just caught a glimpse of her revealed right wrist on the wheel. It was very clear, the slits on her wrist, fading little, mostly evident and obvious to their cause.

I took her hand and inspected it more thoroughly, while she sighed and seemed to tense up a bit, just a bit.

"Jesus, Selina...what did you do?" I asked, trying not to sound too blunt.

"Let's just say that I've got a few bats in my belfry."

"So you cut yourself?! Selina, I'd've never guessed for a second that you-"

"What? You think I'm perfect? Shit, you've got a lot to learn about me, sweetheart. A LOT."

"When did you do this?"

"When he left me."

"Who? You don't mean-"

"Oh yeah, baby. Bruce Wayne. Fucker broke my heart."

"W-well, that's because you were a thief! A traitor, Selina. Of course he couldn't be with someone like you. He's-"

"For the greater good? Oh yeah, I get that. He'd brag about it all the damn time when I was with him. He was all for justice. No rebellion in his precious establishment, nope. Natta."

"Nonetheless, Selina, you can't resort to self-harm every time someone breaks your heart."

"You can if you have nothing else to live for."

"What don't you have to live for?! You're 25 years old! You've got your whole damn life ahead of you, and you can always make amends."

"I can't really change who I am, Di. I've tried so many times to just...run away from myself, but I'm always trapped. Always trapped here. Right here, where I don't want to be."

"I recall you telling me that you're a reformed woman."

"Pfft, please, Dian. How else was I to get you in here? I need to fucking _vent_. I need someone to open up to and talk about these things."

"Well, then you need to find someone else because I can't do this, Selina. You had your chance, and you blew it."

She put the car to a screeching halt. Thank God we weren't on the highway.

"What the hell's it gonna take to get another chance?! I'm sorry!"

"I can't just hand you my trust. I did once and you abused it and ruined any chance of returning it to me the way it was before."

"Jesus! And you wonder why I cut!"

"You still do? I thought you said those marks were from a few years ago!"

"Fuck, just forget it, D. You'll never get it. Damn, do I wish you could walk a thousand miles in my shoes…"

"You mean through compilations of strip clubs, downtown alleyways, bars, various bedrooms, and frat parties all in six inchers?"

She then unlocked the car doors.

"Out then, bitch. If you really detest me this much, then just leave."

Before gladly taking up the opportunity, I decided to suggest one more thing to Selina.

"Hey, maybe Pamella can help you out." I got a shocking reply to that.

"Ivy? She's dead, Dian. Kicked the bucket just a year ago."

"What? How did she-"

"Girl enjoyed her vodka...and heroine, yeah she loved the heroine."

"OD?"

"Bingo."

"God, how old was she?"

"23, I think. She was...a good friend, but she was too much like myself, mentally, that is. But it would still be like looking into a mear whenever I spoke with her. I guess we shared a brain. She was reckless, as was I. Beautiful too, with the thick and curly auburn hair and porcelain skin and green eyes. Shit, she must've been like 5'10 though. I'd have to tilt my head way upwards to meet her eyes. I'd often call her 'Staggering Heights'."

By now she had been driving again, and I was still placed in the passengers seat, just listening to her recant her old memories of her lost friend, who I'd only met once back in 2005 while working in LA before my move to Gotham. She was a bit of an outlaw indeed. Not nearly as bad as Selina, but I'd catch her stuffing lipsticks down her pocket from time to time. Not to mention her drug and alcohol problem, that had apparently killed her in the long run. I'd heard that she spent some time in rehab, but missed the bottle a bit too much to stay there long-term.

"Well, she wasn't like you, D. No, I like you. Sure, you may be a tad tedious to deal with for the most part, but I don't mind fighting for what I want." She smiled after she finished that honestly somewhat amiable sentence. It appeared that she really did want me as her friend again. But like I said earlier, I couldn't just hand her my trust again. She really had to earn it.

She stopped in front of my apartment, shocking me quite a bit, for I hadn't mentioned to her where I was staying.

"And we're here, Di," she happily inquired, while I wanted some answers.

"Yeah, how?"

"Hmm?"

"How the hell do you know where I live? I never mentioned it to you."

"Well, I may have kind of saw you exiting the place this morning while I was out here em, finding some work."

Finding work? Oh sure…

"And did you succeed?" I asked, still suspicious.

"Not yet, I've been job searching all day...Well, maybe I'll catch ya later, D."

_Maybe by unlucky chance…_

"Sure, bye." I got out and went around the front towards the entrance.

"Oh, tell Bruce I said hi!" she hollered, then took off.

Oh, right, I'm sure that her greetings would be the first thing he'd want to hear when our next confrontation approached. Then again, I guess I couldn't really give the final say to that. What if Bruce did care about her, at least, to an extent?

For unfortunately, I had already.


	11. Speaking with the Commissioner

_**Speaking with the Commissioner **_

I examined my left hip in my tall bedroom mear. _Phew_. Just a long, ugly scrape, about three or four inches long in length. It was on the side of my thigh, just stopping below my beltline.

I removed my outfit and went into my bathroom to wipe up the dried blood and lotion my wound up for quicker healing.

While scrubbing away at my thigh, I couldn't help but wonder why the Joker was so fascinated with cutting people. I was sure that he lugged that Godforsaken knife around with him everywhere he went.

He'd made his mark on me twice. Once on my neck upon threat, and the second time just for his own personal fucked-up satisfaction. He did it as if it turned him on. Like it fueled his fire.

I almost wanted to go by what Bruce had recommended to me earlier that day. To let him deal with the madman and have me keep a good distance. I sure as hell didn't want to have to face this asshole ever again, but I also did not want to appear as a coward. No, I was strong willed. I needed to put forth my efforts to protect this nearly doomed city. Bruce couldn't do it alone. I would stand by him with every battle we'd face, even if I chanced being smothered by the wronged man of heinous tomfoolery.

* * *

It was nearly 4:00 when I received a call from Bruce while I was working on an article I was to have ready for the following day. He had not found the Joker, nor any clues that could signify his location. He was pretty irate as you can imagine. The whole interlocutor was very tense and heated.

"How could I have let him get away like that _again_?! I'm failing thousands of people, Diana!"

"Bruce, it was not your fault. The man smoked out the whole room before you even had a chance to blink. He's clever, Bruce, and the only way we can stop him is to-"

"_Be more clever_," Bruce broke in, nicely finishing up my intended words.

"We need to get ahead of him. Get in his face before he sees what is coming. Break down his goals before he has the chance to even think them through properly. We must take _him_ by surprise."

"And how will we do that?" I felt necessary to reason.

"...Only time will tell, Dian. Like you depicted, he is clever, and even excels in the field of improvisation. Before we can step in front of him, we'll have to let him step in front of _us_."

"Bruce, I hate to sound like a hopeless bearer of discouragement, but he'll step _all over u_s if we don't figure out his plans and put a stop to them _fast_."

"I don't know what to tell you, Dian, he's no where to be found. I've tore through his usual headquarters, and the place was cleaned out of everything except a few old crates. I checked out all the alleyways and I've asked around in the local inns and even the bars."

"You don't think he's hiding out somewhere in the bank, do you?" I considered, to my own personal doubt, but remained open minded to the thought.

"No, I, along with the authorities, ransacked through the place finding nothing but loose bills and a few tied up tellers."

"Well then, I suppose we'll just have to wait until he puts himself out there again...seems like our only choice, huh?"

"...Unfortunately."

* * *

I decided to not leave my apartment for the rest of that day. I wasn't normally a contributor to the phrase 'lazy Sunday' but today, I went by it vehemently by remaining comfortably seated on my couch while watching season 2 of _Sex and the City_ with a Michelina's pasta for dinner.

I'd usually patrol with Bruce on Sunday nights, but considering the circumstances and our prioritized villain having a diehard crush on me, I decided to take things easy, for at least the rest of that day. Of course I'd storm right out if Bruce called with a wanting of assistance, but I was honestly keeping my fingers crossed that that would not occur, for I was in peaceful solitude for the time being.

I went to bed at 10 that night, wanting to forget that feverish day and look onwards in hope of a better tomorrow. I couldn't keep my head held too high however, especially with so many disappointments and plot twists getting thrown into my life uninvited.

I managed to pass out, and without any unwanted erotic dreams or strenuous insomnia. I woke at 7am. After showering I put on my favorite khaki work pants and white tank top with my black blazer.

I gathered my notes for the article on Bruce's (and my) experiences at the Blackgate robbing incident. Of course I couldn't go into hardcore detail, for the public was oblivious to realizing that I was their heroic sidekick of Batman, Wonder Woman, so I kept things cut to the chase and concise on who the problem was, biases on what went down, (excluding the Joker's and my horrific time in the security room) who the people were who was injured/killed, and how the authorities are working to prevent such an occurrence again, hopefully.

I got to the Gotham Gazette at approximately 7:45. I was a journalist on the news of current crime and police/Batman intervention. My job was actually fairly simple, but my article's were generally located on the second to last page, if not the final page. They were small sections, for I suppose that not too many people were all that interested in what Bruce was up to anymore, considering he had been their protector for the past nine and a half years, starting when he was just 23.

Anyways, I still took the position of depicting what goes down when danger strikes the cursed city of Gotham. And my most credible source was always Bruce along with a few police officers occasionally including Jim Gordon.

I'd met Jim a few months earlier upon my re-arrival to Gotham from my five year hiatus in Metropolis. He was a really generous guy with much obtained determination. He, like Bruce, was very serious about bringing justice and keeping righteousness in the perilous streets of Gotham. He was also aware of our full identities, of few other people, including Alfred Pennyworth, and unfortunately, the Joker on _my_ behalf, thankfully not knowing who Bruce was.

He was middle aged and wore glasses and spoke with a slight British accent. He had a touch of gray in his otherwise dark brown hair, probably due to stress day in and day out in this highly disordered city.

He worked his ass off trying to keep things at least slightly in line, the poor man. At least Bruce and I could contribute our efforts to society as well, but just how much could we produce a positive difference with the Joker back and wreaking havoc amongst us dwellers?

...

I walked into work fumbling both my purse and big stack of notes in my arms. I was a bit tired. It was Monday after all, which was usually not my favorite weekday. It denoted a big week ahead. A big and likely eventful week. Too eventful, and therefore stressful on my behalf. For we had a mastermind to research, find, and put away for good.

I received a "hello, Dian" from one of my coworkers, Linda Tomsen. She was an amiable people-person in her mid-thirties. She was a divorced mother of two, who seemed peaceful and contempt with her life, unlike myself at the time.

"Hey, Lin," I returned, while getting adjusted into my small box of an office. I dropped my luggage on my desk and plopped down into my seat, with a tad of unnecessary relief. It was only ten to eight in the morning after all, and I had a long day ahead of me. I wouldn't be punching out till 5 that day.

Linda leaned against my office walling with a large cup of Starbucks in hand. Her blonde and wavy hair cascaded aside her cup as she spoke on about what she'd heard of our hazardous situation.

"So I heard that that creep with the war paint is back in town," she complied, as I knew that damn well.

"Oh yeah, unfortunately…" I replied, trying not to sound too obvious. I couldn't hint that I was the city's female savior. She may have already had her suspicions, and I dared not to add on to them. I was Diana Prince to her. Just that. Just a normal 27-year old woman who worked as a columnist at the city press. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I just hope that he doesn't strike us drastically like he did last time back in '08. He killed off like ten people or something like that and he blew up the General hospital, thank God they were able to get everyone out before the explosion occurred. That was tragic, Dian. I don't think you were here when that all went down, were you?"

I shook my head. She clicked her tongue twice as if to suggest her regards of upcoming dissatisfaction.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see what goes on, huh?"she asked directing her light green eyes into mine.

"I suppose so…" I sighed, as she smiled and gave her usual "toodaloo" to say goodbye.

I then turned my desktop computer on and sat back, flipping through my rough draft while waiting for the old thing to fire up. I'd managed to get a paragraph of text down before being approached by a hastened and paranoid looking Jim Gordon.

"Miss Prince, a word, if you will. It's important."

"What's going on?" I asked, feeling my heart race and stomach knot up in angst. Did something happen to Bruce? Why else would the City's leading officer come there with an urgent need to speak with _me_ right then? He hadn't done that before…

"Just follow me into the other room." He leaned in closer. "It has to do with the _Joker_," he whispered cautiously, as my stomach flipped like a pancake.

I got up and warily followed him into our currently empty meeting room. Once inside, he abruptly closed the door, then proceeded to go around and close all of the blinds. This must have been really serious.

"Oh my God, Jim, what happened? Is Bruce okay?" I asked, while shakingly taking a seat in one of the many desk chairs.

"Yes, yes, he is fine. What I'm concerned for is your health. Are _you_ okay?" he asked, taking me aback a bit. Why was I his concern?

"Um, yes, I'm alright...why?"

He paced back and forth and sighed while seeming to contemplate his approaching speech.

"...Mr. Wayne spoke with me last night. He told me that you had up close and personal contact with the Joker."

I blushed uncontrollably. Jesus, did Bruce tell him _everything_? The forced kisses? The cuts and intense ass-grasping? I considered my disgusting experience to be personal and wanted Bruce to keep it to himself. I trusted him, and I got his word that he wouldn't preach my debilitating tale to others.

"U-um...what did he say?" I fearfully asked, my ears ringing with tension for his answer.

"He told me that you were locked in a room with him alone. That you were stuck in there with the freak for at least half an hour. That's all he clarified. The rest he spoke on about the other brigands that serviced the Joker-" He paused and smoothed his hair anticipatingly. "Ten of them. Seven caught, three escaped...got away with nearly 50 Grand."

I sighed silently in relief. He didn't let loose the _intimate_ info that I'd revealed. Thank you, Bruce.

He took a seat next to me and met my eyes. "What I came here to ask was, did you get the chance to unveil anything about this madman? Did he tell you anything personal about himself?"

"No, he just cut my thigh-" His eyes widened worriedly. "Not that bad though, it'll heal soon. He also told me how he got his scars, but I think it was completely fabricated, sir-"

"Wait, tell me what he told you," he stated, while now getting a notebook and pen out of his case.

"Alright, um, he told me that when he was fifteen, he had a very depressed and suicidal friend who, from what he told me, seemed to having schizophrenia."

He was already crinkling his eyebrows in doubt.

"He told me that one night his friend had managed to sneak into his bedroom and attack him with a knife, hence the scars on his face. He concluded by indicating that he'd made an escape out his window."

He quietly scoffed at that last part, as did I when he told me. I doubted that he could shed light from any of that nonsense.

"Huh. Is that all he said?"

Up came the despised flashbacks of forced lip thrashing again.

"Y-yes, that's all he said."

He stared down at the carpeted floor and sighed gruffly.

"Thank you for your time, Diana. You may go."

I shook his hand and headed back out. A few people gawked at me knowing something imperative was up, for just having a private conversation with the freaking leader of the city, I'd guess.

Linda approached me stricken strongly with the common virus of curiosity.

"Was that Commissioner Gordon? What's going on?"

"Oh, just some news on the Blackgate robbing incident," I said, not in the mood for explaining the complete story.

"Ah, well, let's keep our fingers crossed that our city can remain invulnerable just a bit longer," she said with a loss of hope at the end.

I nodded. "We'll have to keep dreaming."

But crossing my fingers never got me anywhere. Never.


	12. Skyscraper

_******__Strong sexual content** Be wary._

* * *

_**Skyscraper**_

That entire week was composed of searching almost aimlessly for the Clown. Due to the severity of the last attack he wreaked through the city, we had SWAT teams and cops in nearly every little corner of Gotham. Bruce was working long hours each day as well keeping a careful eye out for his top villain.

We managed to go four days without any trouble, except a break-in at a local drugstore by a 'normal thief' who was caught almost immediately anyways.

Despite our so-far safe conditions, I still kept my pistol handy at my bedside just in case the face-painted freak broke into my apartment with plans of infiltrating my entire being. God, one more 'kiss' from that psychopath and I likely have a panic attack while undergoing enough hyperventilation to kill me.

I'd never seen Bruce so stressed. He looked like a zombie whenever I'd see him, which wasn't too often in that week, for he was patrolling more than he had ever before.

"_He will not get away. No, no, he won't. I'm going to find him and have him locked up in Arkham if it's the last fucking thing I do_," Bruce would tell me, basically on repeat, while I'd nod and chip in my hope that he could make that an axiom.

"Bruce, you're not even _sleeping_ anymore," I'd tell him, worried for his health. He was definitely one to shrug off his sleeping patterns. Staying up all night was just his mojo. His prerogative.

"You just concern yourself, Diana. I'll be fine. I will not be collapsing onto my mattress until he is off the streets."

I knew that tone signified that he was wholesomely serious. I could do nothing to change his mind. I could only give him a sympathetic pat on the back and walk away. He was a very strong and courageous man. I knew he could handle things himself. But when it came to the Joker, I couldn't help but be overly concerned.

In their last encounter, as he told me, he did defeat the Joker, in terms of having him dangle by a hang glider wrapped around his ankle upside down nearly one hundred feet in the air. However, Bruce felt psychologically defeated by the Joker's speech amidst mid-air.

"_You..you just couldn't let me go, could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible, aren't you? Huh? You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness...and I won't kill you because you're just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever."_

"_You'll be in a padded cell forever!"_

"_Maybe we could share one. You know, they'll be doubling up at the rate, this city's inhabitants are losing their minds."_

"_This city just showed you that it's full of people ready to believe in good."_

"_Until their spirit breaks completely. Until they get a good look at the real Harvey Dent, and the all heroic things he's done. You didn't think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you? No. You need an ace in the hole. Mine's Harvey."_

"_What did you do?"_

" _I took Gotham's "White Knight", and brought him down to our level. It wasn't hard. See, madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little_ _**push**__!"_

Sure, the SWAT team managed to take him into custody, though he somehow by miraculous chance escaped the authorities and fled the city. (Presumably).

But Bruce was really torn apart by what the Joker had told him. Harvey Dent was practically turned a madman all by what the Joker had done to him. He murdered his lady and civilization as they knew it.

I'm thankful that I was not around when all of this went down. I wouldn't have been able to stand the sight of Bruce, for he basically erased himself from society for a good two or three years before getting back out there and being a hero.

I could tell that Bruce would stand for no more nonsense. Once the Joker was in his reach, he'd hog-tie him with a compilation of cords and personally deliver him to the Asylum's high surveillance section for lifelong imprisonment.

...

Things changed once Friday came along. I'd just gotten out of work when word got out that the Joker was up to his old ways yet again-this time really having a **plan** set up.

He had announced that multiple set-to-destruct bombs were placed all over our city's East End, particularly in the financial institutions and penthouses.

I saw this on the news, most of it in the headlines located towards the bottom. As I was getting my suit on, Bruce called, not taking me by surprise.

"Did you see the report?" he asked, panting and sounding somewhat aggrieved.

"Yes, I'm on my way," I replied.

"Meet me at the Square, and I'll give you directions from there." He hung up abruptly after his final word. I was tense as hell. I'd never dealt with a massive bomb threat before. Things were just automatically worse considering the _Joker_ was behind all of this.

I almost wanted to just stay put and hide under my sheets like a cowardly ditz. I knew tonight was gonna be **big. **I may have been throwing my life away by going out there. I was even more anxious for Bruce's sake. He was far more headstrong than I was, and tended to put himself in hazardous situations where death would be waiting on the porch of his potential fate the entire time.

This was it. Maybe tonight would be the night the Joker would finally be caught and put away, to Bruce's and my satisfaction. Or, things would go terribly wrong. We'd lose nearly half the city's inhabitants in an array of disastrous explosions. God, Bruce would probably consider suicide if that was the case.

I hurriedly fled my apartment with one shoe not even tied and a few buttons on the back of my suit still undone, jacket barely zipped up to hide my heroic identity. Of course Bruce would never let this happen to himself. Never. His identity was sacred to him. Admittedly, too sacred.

I felt the warm summer draft hit me once outside in the 78 degree dusk. I ran out towards the Square that was just half a mile away. Once there, I noticed Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Luckily, I had my cellphone handy, for Bruce called almost immediately after my arrival.

"Dian, I had to leave the Square-"

"I noticed," I broke in, a tad frustrated at his abandonment. The last thing I wanted, or needed, was to be alone tonight.

"Look, I'd received word that a gang of the Joker's men were seen headed towards the southern region of the city where the schools are located, seeming to have more detonators handy, so I'm headed for them."

My knees weakened and my heart seemed to flip. I was alone on this? I had to prevent at least ten separated bombs from activating? _Dear God_.

"B-Bruce, um, what do I do then?"

"You need to be brave, Dian. Avoid the Joker at all costs. Get together with the Officers and Gordon. They can help. Your goal is to locate exactly where the bombs are, while keeping a great distance and letting the SWAT's deal with them. Now, presumably, four of them are hidden in the Cortyire Penthouse, likely spread throughout, and the other supposed six are-"

He was cut off.

"Bruce? _Bruce_?!"

I looked down to out of shit-luck see that my battery had died. Of all the times, why _now_?!

I felt my heart race. _Okay...it's OK. I'll do as he instructed. I'll find Jim and the authorities and go with them to find the bombs...yes, I'll be fine, and so will everyone else._

I headed right for the station. As I'd figured, Jim was not present. He most likely was already out doing what he could to find those bombs. I was teamed up with six armed recruits to tear up the old and abandoned trading center in the heart of the city, also known as our largest skyscraper.

Things didn't seem to be well-thought out on the way there while traveling in in SWAT van.

"_We'll search the basement"_

"_No, we need to do the third floor, that's where the detonators were last time…"_

"_It's probably in an unexpected area...the top floor?"_

"_The top floor is closed off and abandoned. Likely not there…"_

"Hey, I think we should head to the Cortyire place, I heard a majority of the bombs are located there," I suggested, while they seemed to not hear me out.

"_But the detonators are in the trading center. They're the source to ending all of this-"_

"_No, we need to find the fucking clown! He's the one with the main controls!"_

I sat in anticipation as they argued. Things were not looking bright at all. I only grew more worried upon arrival to the center. They all sprinted out before I had the chance to get my seatbelt off. I knew I was pretty much on my own.

I went inside the place, gun at my side, uncharged phone and butterflies going crazy in my stomach. The soldiers were scampering about madly...on the first floor. Some headed downstairs, others tore apart flooring and the walls.

"I'll just, um, cover the top floor," I threw in, being heard by no one. I sighed I made my way for the stairs and made my way upwards. The elevator was broken down, so I'd have to waste fifteen to twenty minutes going up the very long staircase. I'd also be extremely out of breath once up there, which just degraded my circumstances even more. I needed energy and adrenaline to get through this, and so far, it was over halfway gone.

The building was dimly lit, most of the place appeared to have been abandoned with cobwebs, loose wiring and chunks of broken glass everywhere. The night sky was shining through the open windows through each flight I'd reached. It must have been nearly 7:00.

My stomach was now aching from a tremulous workout up the stairs. My breath was shallow and I was panting. Sweat was running down my forehead and cheeks. I removed my coat and wrapped it around my waist, allowing me just a little boost of energy from the relieving cool-off.

I was over halfway there. I had to keep moving. I kept myself motivated with the thought of possibly saving thousands of people. My thoughts were also glued to Bruce's situation. God, was I afraid for him.

I had to assure myself that he'd be okay. He was a warrior in that suit of his. He could handle himself just fine… but I prayed for him still.

I was yet again at loss when I tripped over the second to top step of the eleventh flight, dropping my pistol in the process, having it plummet nearly seventy feet below back to the first floor.

_Are you fucking kidding me?! _I scolded out loud, then forcing myself to shrug it off and continue on. I assumed that no one was up there anyways, and that just the detonators were there sitting alone…

Then logic kicked in a bit too late.

_Wait, they wouldn't be left in solitary environment...that'd be far too easy_.

I realized this once I'd made my way up there, seeing a man staring out a large window through some broken down boards and ripped satin curtaining from off in the distance.

Damn, I'd guessed I needed my only weapon after all…

I skimmed around for anything I could use as a weapon. A large crowbar caught my eye from a distance of about ten feet. I thanked my rare lucky stars and slowly and very quietly made my way for the tool, fighting to go unheard by the man in the other room.

Once I'd obtained it, I snuck towards the formerly sealed off doorway and slipped through the gaping hole, silent as I could manage, and metal bar clenched securely in my right hand.

My plan was to sneak up on this guy, and bring the tool down harshly on his head, knocking him out cold on impact.

I, with the grace of a mouse, slipped my boots off and tiptoed over towards the man in baby steps. I must have been fifteen feet away when I'd pressed down on a loose floorboard with my right foot, immediately drawing the attention of this man.

I gasped and felt my knees almost give out in fear.

"Ah, _Bat_man, I've got to say, you're a little late. I've been waiting up here for quite some ti-"

He stopped when he actually saw who I was, as I felt sick at my new recognition. It was the Joker, of _fucking_ course...

"Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, asshole, and I'm going to put an immediate halt to your sick plans!" I shouted, suddenly audacity consumed.

He began to crack up, as I had expected him to. He slowly walked towards me as he was cackling in the manner of a schizophrenic witch.

"Y-you! Bwahahaha! Oh, sweetheart…"

I decided to waste no more of the limited time I had. I sprinted for him and lunged my weapon at him, he of course, managed to scramble out of the way.

"Try again," he laughed, as I rammed into him in an attempt to bring him down to the floor. The next thing I knew I was on top of him, awkwardly positioned, but very determined.

"Where are the detonators?!" I demanded, as he seemed to really enjoy my placement atop him. He laughed and rested his hands on my bare hips.

"Why ruin the fun?" He threw me off of him and leaned over me in an instant.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" I retorted, with both a fierce and edgy tone. All I could see was his smeared makeup: the white paint nearly wiped away revealing his tan skin tone around his forehead and cheeks and faded black eye paint and red paint filling the ridges of his scars also appeared to diminish a bit.

He grabbed a handful of my jet-black hair and tugged roughly. "How _badly_ do you want to know?" he asked darkly through gritted teeth.

I kneed him with as much force as I could muster, throwing him away a couple feet. I raised my weapon and brought it down once more, too late, for he'd swiftly moved out of the way. I continued to swing and step towards him, just barely missing every time.

After my fifth attempt at wounding him, he threw himself at me, picking me up off my feet and slinging me over his left shoulder.

With the crowbar, still in hand, I swung down onto the small of his back, not really throwing him off too much, for I was still held firmly in his arms.

"This is getting boring…" he sighed while yanking the tool out of my hands and tossing it aside, then carrying me out through a large broken window pane and tossing me down onto the cemented ridge that stuck out on the outside of the building, about 100 feet in the air.

He stood over me, his long, slightly matted and wavy hair flowing with the harsh breeze. His dark and haunting eyes were all over me. He figured himself a king. A dominant corruptor of society as a whole.

I backed away and leaned against the post behind me, having capability to slip off the edge and fall to my demise with any shove, light or hard, he'd give me.

"D-do you even know what you are doing?" I asked, trying to seek out his soul, if he even had one.

He scowled and kneeled down atop me, each of his legs aside my thighs.

He grasped the chest area of my suit and pulled me up, then held me in place.

"Of course I _know_ what I'm doing. I'm really advanced at this sort of activity."

"Killing innocent people? You consider yourself professional at that?"

"...Yeah," he mustered while fidgeting around for something in his trench coat.

"Why? Is it because you have nothing? Are you depressed?"

I regretted saying that last part.

"HA! Depressed?! I'm fucking chip as ever!" he retorted, while pulling out a small device that glowed green.

I knew that must have been the detonator. I reached out for it immediately. He raised his arm high into the air and pinned me down.

"Is this what you want?" he teased, while I struggled against his grip.

"Give it to me."

"Beg me for it."

"Please, just don't do this." Tears pooled around my eyes in frustration and angst.

"Tell ya what, I'll give it to you if you do me a little favor first…" he bargained, as I was feeling submissive to anything he'd suggest.

"What?"

He lifted himself off of me. He then yanked me upwards as he stood, not bringing me completely to my feet.

Did he have quite the bargain in mind.

"Get on your knees," he ordered calmly, while I felt my neck throb in disgust.

"W-what?"

"If ya want this little device, you're going to have to _please_ me a little first…"

"You sick fuck."

He grabbed the back of my head and brought it forward to meet his slight bulge. I whimpered in peril.

"N-no!"

He groaned frustratingly and dropped back down on top of me.

"You get to watch your little city burn."

The opening between my knees and his waist indicated a beautiful chance for me to knee his crotch.

Before performing the knee thrust of my life, I had to distract him. Just before he had the chance to place his thumb over the small green button I rushed my lips into his, with intense distaste. He obliged as I'd assumed he would. He was also taken aback, as planned. He wrapped his hands around my head and turned his head while running his tongue over my lips. I raised my arms above my head took the liberty of kneeing him roughly with plenty of valiance. I then managed to snatch the detonator out of his hand and toss it over the edge, not thinking twice at all.

I prayed that the thing crashing to the streets below wouldn't set it off, but all I could do was wait. That wait proved satisfactory, for no atomic booms were heard nor smoke was arisen, just a frustrated growl from the Clown and the hardest slap of my life followed.

"You're a sad little thing. You'll never have this city. Gotham's not your bitch. You'll never have anything. You're alone and doomed to rot in the flaming pits of hell," I sneered, as he looked out on the distance above me.

"No...no, you're wrong…I have you."

Before I had to the chance to escape his barricade, he put all of his weight on me and buried his head in my neck, planting hard and wet kisses across my neck up to my ear. I squirmed for freedom, his weight pinning me down did not allow me that.

"_I'm not alone_," he breathed into my ear all in one hot exhale.

He moved his hands beneath me and my chest met his in an instant. His undid the back of my suit and pulled it down to my waist. I was slammed back down into the cool pavemented ridge and he bit into my neck.

"_Ow! S-stop it!" _I begged, not convincing him a lick. As I fought against him, he lifted me off the ground and carried me back inside and into a small room hoarded with loose boards and loosely hung sheer curtains.

I was slammed against the wall and held in place with his masculine arms and broad chest. My feet were off the floor.

"Gotham may not be my bitch, but at least _you_ are," he muttered, while taking off his large coat and tossing it on the floor. I pressed my hands forcibly against his chest, while he managed to unbutton his shirt in the process.

"_P-please_!"

"I _want_ you." He let his shirt fall to the floor and he rushed red-stained lips back onto my drying lips. Pressing against his hard and hairy chest did me nothing and got me nowhere. With one tug downwards my suit sank down to my ankles. I was left in just my white-laced bra and underwear.

"_C'mere, don't struggle_…" He took my shaking hands and forced them down to meet the zipper of his pants. His hands guided mine as he pulled his fly down and pulled apart the button keeping his pants fastened.

"Oh my God, please," I pleaded, getting weaker by the second.

He chuckled and then reached around to unfasten my bra in a whirlwind flash. I frantically pressed my chest against him in an attempt to prevent him from seeing my bare breasts. He still managed to snatch my last to only privacy away, my breasts pressed against his bare chest.

"I was close. _34 C_," he mumbled while prying me away from his chest and back against the wall, revealing my shame.

"They're beautiful," he grumbled, while grasping each one with his large and rough hands. Anger consumed me as he moved his hands down for my only source of privacy left on me. I knew I couldn't escape...and the mere thought of me having first handedly experiencing rape revolted me like nothing else.

My only option left was to try and enjoy this experience. Make the most of it. Accept this one time thing, this one night stand, if you will.

Though he refused to admit it, he was depressed. He had nothing. Just me.

He lied me down onto his clothing that compensated for proper bedding and he began to kiss my right breast. I squirmed at first, then closed my eyes and fought to accept my circumstance.

_God...just pretend it's Bruce...Fuck, what am I thinking?_

His lips enclosed around my nipple. That is when I could no longer suppress a small moan. This excited him, of course. It probably compensated for his ruined plans of blowing up half the city. He was thrilled at his ability to grant my physical satisfaction. But I stand by what I wanted. I pictured Bruce's tongue and firm lips moving rapidly at my breast in a circular motion.

He did my other, while I still continued to squirm beneath him, for maybe just one more possible chance at escape. There was no avail with that. He was now planting kisses down my stomach.

Now I really panicked.

"_NO_!"

"_Sensitive_, I see," he groaned, while threading his fingers beneath the thin waistband of my panties and then yanking them down with much celerity.

My face had never burned hotter. Not even the night Bruce took my virginity got my face so burgundy. I'm not implying that this man was better. I'm not suggesting that _at all_.

But I believe that the mere fact that I was about to sleep with this nefarious bastard set something off inside of me. I have yet to figure out what that_ thing_ is.

I fought to keep my legs closed, to halt any more foreplay. To get my little torn and dirty scrap of clothing back on and fucking beat it. He was just too strong.

He...

God.

He _pried _my thighs apart and inserted two of his fingers into me. Tears rolled down my cheek to make up for the cry of both pleasure and distress that I wanted to utter so desperately. I did anything to prevent him from feeling anymore pride.

I grabbed a handful of his dried hair and jerked upwards.

He maintained his grip on me and chuckled darkly.

"_All right_, we'll save tha_t_ for another time..."

I scrambled back against the wall.

"_No_. There will not be a next-"

He interrupted my protest by tackling me back to the floor and throwing off his own boxers. I couldn't remove my eyes from his erection.

...Christ, he was _bigger_ than Bruce!

Again my legs were opened and he made a quick entrance. He forcibly wrapped each of my legs around his back and began moving back and forth.

I closed my eyes and envisioned Bruce in my mind doing this to me.

The Joker slapped me, making me gasp out in spite of his vicious spontaneity.

"_Look at me_," he ordered while narrowing down to meet my eyes...then seized the nape of my neck for more upcoming caresses.

Unable to sustain, I sighed the sexual frustration I'd been holding in for the past five minutes.

He snickered. He'd taken me. Things would change now. Forever.


	13. What have I done?

_**What have I done?**_

The first thing I sensed was the hard floor beneath me. Eyes still closed, I shifted around a little, feeling sore everywhere. The clothes beneath me provided little to no comfort. The next thing I noticed was a firm yet benevolent hand wrapped around my waist, almost holding me in place.

I slowly opened my eyes, only to have them briefly sting at the harsh incoming light of day. It must have been around six in the morning. The sunlight shone through the ripped sheer curtain hanging loosely on the doorway twenty feet away.

I suddenly recalled the details of that night.

How he took out his frustrations on my body in the form of passionate sex. How he carried me through that old doorway and rammed me into the wall directly behind us. Then down onto the hard floor atop his clothes, while we used his large blazer as a blanket atop his back as we made love throughout the night.

He almost wasn't that crazy maniacal madman of insanity when he was inside of me. No, he was just...normal. He cackled little, and he devoted his entire being to me, so it seemed. The way he caressed me and the things he said to me, though much of his grunts and musters that were breathed into my ears were explicit and sensually vulgar.

The night had passed away, and it was daytime now, which meant it was time for me to move on, forget this horrendous experience and get the hell out of there.

I (with extreme diligence) lifted his arm off of me and scooted away from him. I'd succeeded in not disrupting his stupor. He stirred a little and audibly exhaled, then remained still. Now all I had to do was find my freaking clothes...

My eyes scanned the whole of the area that we, _ahem_, fooled around in. I saw my suit a couple feet behind his covered up ass, and my socks were separated by about five feet nearby my suit. My bra was brushed against the top of his head, so I'd have to be really graceful when gathering that. My jacket was probably a few feet outside the doorway. And...my panties were nowhere in sight.

No matter, I'd just get my suit and jacket on and make a break for it. Who cared about one pair of underwear? Not that I really wanted them back anyways...Ugh, the memories.

I tiptoed over to my suit with the heedfulness of a moth in an attempt to not awaken his assholeness. I grabbed it without crinkling a single eyebrow of his.

I then stepped back and sighed in relief. Now, just my bra and I was leaving!

I, still stark nude, leaned over him to obtain my brassiere. Though once I'd had my fingers held onto the rim of the left cup, I heard a low chuckle and a remark from the freak below me.

"Oh, ho ho...Isn't this pleasant? Opening my eyes to see a naked woman right above me…"

I flailed away and snatched his coat away to cover up. He lied on the ground leaning upright on his forearms, as nude as I was.

"Why so...shy?" he teased, while I felt my face burn in both anger and embarrassment.

"Fuck you! Prick! You better keep your distance or I'll kick your nuts in!" I threatened, while continuing to back away.

"That'd be nice...considering you did almost nothing with them last night," he cruelly teased, as I felt the impending urge to drag him outside onto the ridge and kick him over the edge.

"Whatever. Just know that what happened last night is NEVER going to happen again."

I slipped into the room to the left and put my bra on. I heard him get up, with a slight grunt.

"Ya know, I'm a little shocked that ya actually got off with me. I mean, I really thought I'd be fighting for months or even years-"

"SHUT UP!" I hollered, while quickly putting my suit back on. My goal was to get away from him pronto. He could keep the fucking panties for all I cared.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does the truth hurt?" He was mocking me. He didn't care whether or not I was hurt. He was ruthless. He only cared for himself. That was all there was to it. _That_ was the truth. That he'd always be alone. Miserable, deep down inside. Not even he knew this.

I stepped out and chucked his coat at him. He was still carelessly nude. His face paint was smeared drastically…much of it having probably gotten onto my face and neck, unfortunately.

"All I know is that I'm disgusted with myself." I turned to leave.

"Why?"

"Why the fuck do you think?"

"C'mon Dian, what is so _bad_ about me?"

_Dear Christ, where would I fucking begin?!_

"You're shitting me, right? Let's see...you're a notorious serial killer/terrorist who thrives on tearing up society as a whole, you are the most high-headed, egotistical prick I've ever met, you can't leave your fucking residence without covering every square inch of your face with cheap war paint, and you're a conniving nuisance in general."

"Do you consider that a valid excuse?"

"UGH." I flashed my middle finger at him and marched out of the slightly sunlit room. I heard him scramble around in there, and then just as I reached the top of the stairs, I was grabbed and harshly thrown against the wall.

His masculine right hand was clutched at the front of my neck, literally taking my breath away.

"Don't lie to me, you fucking whore. You were exhilarated last night. You begged me to _fuck _you_."_

"Asshole! You _raped_ me!" I managed to speak, just barely. His hands sank down to my hips and lifted my body off the floor and held it against the wall, relieving me, only because I was allowed oxygen again.

I panted heavily against his now clothed chest as he positioned himself. Then he scolded me by groaning his retorts into my ear as usual.

"No, no, no, Dian. You contributed. You did."

"NO! Leave me alone!"

"You rocked your hips against mine, you kissed me back." He yanked the side of his shirt downward to reveal his shoulder.

"You gave me _these_." He was referring to the long scrapes I'd left on him, of course from trying to escape, not from sexual satisfaction.

"Yes, I was trying to get you off me! You perverted lunatic!"

He slapped me, hard enough to make the inside of my cheeks bleed and throb like nothing else.

He straightened himself up and grumbled. "What was last night to ya then?"

"A huge fucking mistake," I honestly replied. He actually looked disappointed by my hasty remark. Good. He didn't need any more damn pride.

I hate to really be of _shock_, but he then pulled his recurrent switchblade out and held it against my neck. So typical.

"Ya know I can kill you anytime I like," he muttered, seeming to lack seriousness, at least to me, anyway.

"And you wont. You can't."

"What gives you that idea? Do you want to know how many people I've killed?"

"This week or your life's total?" I sneered, being the usual dumb bitch I'd been around him yet again, almost forgetting that he was extremely homicidal.

He shifted me upwards and grasped my left leg to bring it into sight. He made another slit alongside my other slowly fading cut.

I screamed. He snickered.

"You're corrupt."

"You've got that right...Now, what am I going to do with you?"

"Please, I have to go…" Of course that plea was useless.

"I can't just let ya leave! After what we did? What what the precious inhabitants think of that?"

"Like I'd fucking tell anyone! Oh, believe me, last night is going to be highly confidential. What happened here, _stays here_."

"Why do I doubt that?"

"Why do you doubt me? I'm disgusted with you. I'd never tell anyone that I...God, just let me go."

"You're _mine_, Diana."

"You have to know that I'll never belong to you. Never."

"You should recant that, babe."

"What is it going to take for you to let me out of your sight?"

"How about a kiss?"

Fine.

I pressed my lips against his, taking him aback, if that was even possible. It was comprised of absolutely no pleasure. Both of our lips were dry as hell, and our breaths didn't give off a decent scent either.

He, _astonishingly_, released his grip on me.

"You can go _now_, but I'll always find you. I'm going to warn you that our departure will be brief."

"I'm sure it will be."

I rushed down the stairs, as he remained atop the flight.

I hated facing the truth. I really did.


	14. Forget

_**Forget**_

The first floor was bare. I suppose that the SWAT's stay was brief. Maybe they took my advice and headed to the Cortyire Penthouse, or maybe they didn't…

Nonetheless, I don't think they were too responsible, and thank the Lord for that. God, if they'd've went up to the top floor...I would have probably died from shame and mortification.

It didn't seem real. Sex with the Joker? The city's infamous terrorist?

No, why would I do that?

...Why _did_ I do that?

How did that _thing_ turn me on, even if it was only for a spurred moment, perhaps just before he declothed, perhaps when he looked me in the eyes.

Maybe he had me at, "_No...no, you're wrong. I have _**_you_**_."_

Conceivably, I may have felt something for the lost aberration, but I certainly didn't _love_ him. No, I never would. Even if he did make amends. I just could not.

God, I had to get out of there. What if he was on his way down right then? What if he was somehow right behind me? I wasn't willing to wait and see.

I saw my pistol shattered to chunks off some feet to my right...that was the third one Bruce had given me in a month, damn, I really had to expiate my klutzy ways…

I wrapped my jacket tightly around my frame and walked out into the broad daylight. It was presumably 7 am. The streets were nearly empty, for people were probably still hiding due to the many bomb threats that were called out the previous night.

I assumed that all was safe. The detonator that the Joker had on him was destroyed, or at least, I'd guessed that it was, for it made quite the fall.

As for the other supposed detonators that his goons had when headed for the school district, I'd just have to wait and see what Bruce had to say about that - wait, Bruce!

God, I'd forgotten all about him! He had to be worried sick. My nearly useless phone was not solar powered, so I had to get back to my apartment as fast as I could to contact him, and also scrub away at my body really thoroughly, after the last night's regretful escapade…

I began to sprint home, but decided that that would not work considering how sore I was all over. I'd never had sex on a floor before...so that night was a very new and unpleasant experience for me.

I _limped _home as fast as I could manage, not going too fast at all thanks to my pulled muscles and stiff back.

Once I got inside, I undressed and headed right for the bathroom. A good cleansing was in order, before I was to call Bruce.

Just when the shower water turned hot, the phone rang.

_Oh Joy…_

"Bruce?"

"Dian? Where the hell were you?! I'd been trying to contact you all night!"

"Sorry, my phone died while you were explaining where the bombs were. So, what happened with you?"

"Huh. It turned out that the henchmen were merely a decoy. Luckily, no explosions were accounted for, so I'm assuming that there either never was a detonator, or the Joker did all of this just to…"

I stopped hearing him after that. My mind was flowing with eidetic scenes of naked frolicking. Ugh, when would these perturbing thoughts cease?!

"Diana? Are you still there?"

"Oh, oh yes, sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just suggesting that maybe the Joker made everything up this time, to perhaps try and lure me in somewhere. Nevertheless, he failed at whatever he had planned. What was your situation, Dian?"

Jeez, what would I say? Exaggeration was definitely a necessity.

"Um, oh, I just met up with some SWAT recruits and uh, headed out for the old skyscraper with them...we found nothing out of the ordinary, though."

"The skyscraper? Dian, you all should have investigated the Cortyire house. That was where I'd heard the majority of the explosives were-"

"It tried to tell them that, Bruce, but they had their own way of doing things. I was practically invisible to them."

It was a good thing I went to the damn place because it had turned out that the clown freak had the detonator all along - scratch that. This was not a good thing. Not at all, after what I had to endure. I'd almost rather the city blow up. _Almost_. I wasn't conceited quite enough however.

Bruce sighed. He probably had an even rougher night than myself - never mind, no,there was no way he had it worse than me. No way.

"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you're all right. You seem on edge."

"Oh, no, Bruce. I'm okay," I rep_lied_. I far pretty far from 'okay'. I was nerve-wracked and I felt like a whore.

"Bruce, can we speak later? I have to go. I had a long and tiring night."

"Yeah, you should get some rest. In the mean time, I'll do what I can to try and locate the Joker."

He'd be wasting his time, it wasn't like I could tell him that I knew where he was...I'd be giving him a puzzle that he'd eventually piece together. I absolutely **could not** let him know that the Joker and I...had relations. I had to just go with the flow.

"Sure, alright. You do that. Maybe I'll see ya later."

"Bye then, Dian."

I hung up. I felt terrible for having committed such a vulgar thing. Bruce would disown my ass if he would've found out. He'd have nothing of me.

I completely stripped and turned the shower back on. Before hopping in, I examined myself in the mirror. I was a mess. His red lip paint had been smudged onto my face. My lips were stained red and I had both white and red smeared on my cheek. My neck clearly displayed that bite he'd given me before we got it on. His teeth marks were imprinted and there was a small cut on the upper half of the bite mark.

My breasts had a few purple marks as well. Then there was the little cut he'd left me on my left hip directly above the older one when from our first face-off. The fucking schizo. How long would it be before he swiped that damned tool of his across my neck, terminating my life for good?

While being carried firmly in his arms the last night, with my suit pulled down around my waist and my revealed cleavage pressed snugly against his chin, I couldn't help but wish with all my heart and soul that I were a man. Yes, a penis-wielding, short haired, testosterone-filled brute. Then, things would've been different. The Clown and I would have fought like two irate drunkards. Anger and absolute revolt for one another flowing fluently through our veins, abundant hatred consuming us. Not lust-filled sexual hunger for me. That was his capital plan all along. To get me naked beneath him, legs spread to welcome his bastardized junk, and a night filled with grunts of pleasure and messy hot kisses shoved into each others necks, lips and cheeks.

There'd have been none of that. And that to me, was an ultimate preference.

Once I was in the shower, hot water running down my damaged body, I was struck with a sudden and terrifying realization.

We hadn't used any source of protection. No condoms, no birth control, and no, he didn't...pull-out.

We went at it like animals. No worries (on his behalf) and no cares (also on his behalf). If anything, it was mere recklessness.

"_Dear Christ, what if I'm pregnant?!_" I screamed in my head while lathering up like never before. I couldn't hold back my tears. They began pouring down my cheeks, blending in with the steamy shower water. I wasn't just the fact that I didn't exactly have the 'motherly touch' _just yet_, but to have the father of a potential child of mine be the **Joker**?! Now, that, I could not stand for.

If _Bruce_, on the other hand, were to father a being that we'd conceived together, then I wouldn't be nearly as nerve wracked.

I spent around a half hour just scrubbing away at myself, all in one huge attempt to rid myself of any of his leftover nefarious essence. Never again would I have sex with him. Never!

I had to keep that promise to myself.

If we were to ever meet again, on some outrageously hapless circumstance, then I would have to keep a great distance from him, have my gun on me (loaded and ready for shooting) and have Bruce by my side, if I'm blessed enough.

My body was red as ever from the onerous scrubbing session in my tub. I was also still sore on top of that. I slipped on a pair of fresh satin panties and one of my diaphanous nightgowns and laid down on my bed. Rest was in order, as was getting my mind off of this tainted memory.

My eyes were shut for less than ten minutes before I heard curt knocking at my door, breaking the silence. I waited a few moments before doing anything, hoping whoever it was would go away. I was in no mood or shape to deal with anyone right then.

The knocking continued moments later. I let out a frustrated sigh and scrambled out of bed. I retrieved my robe from my closet and made my way for the door.

"Who is it?" I asked through the door. It certainly wasn't someone I wanted to deal with.

"Me. Let me in." It was Selina.

"Could you come another time? I had a tedious night."

"It's important, D. Come on."

I reluctantly opened the door. She walked in, without asking if it'd be okay with me to do so, not shocking me in the slightest however.

"Come on in," I sarcastically put, while she plopped right down on my sofa, making herself right at home.

"So, how did you know where my room is?" I felt the need to ask, though I probably could have figured that one out through constructive thought, or perhaps even common sense.

"I asked the receptionist. I didn't even have to _beg_," she happily complied. I hoped her visit would prove crucial, because I really wanted to be alone at that time.

"Um, okay then. Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"Nah, I just really want your help."

_Oh great…_

I crossed my arms. "With what?"

"Well, ya see, I owe this guy like six hundred by next Friday, and-"

"For what?" I cut in.

"Um, he just, uh, gave me a little something. So now I need to pay him in return-"

"What did he give you? More drugs?"

"Chill, Di, just some Xanax and pot. I've been stressed out lately…"

_Jesus…_

"OK, what do you want me to do? I hope you don't think that I'm paying you anything."

"No, no! Of course not...I only want your advice. Your words of wisdom."

"Advice?"

"Yup! On what you think would benefit me in this hasty situation."

"Uh-"

"I think I should take up stripping again. I'd definitely be making the big bucks. _A_nd I've got the body for it, don't you agree?"

No, I thought stripping for a few extra bucks crossed the same path as prostituting. It was low, cheap and dirty in general. The last time she'd done this out in LA she'd bitch to me about its downfalls. Everything from the constant fights with the other "hoes" to the beatings she'd receive from her multiple miscreant boyfriends that frowned upon her rubbing her ass all over other men and flaunting her bare ass and tits on a well-lit stage.

So, no, I didn't personally think that erotic dancing would really do her too well, except perhaps financially wise. Now, was I going to be straight-forward and truthful with my viewpoint on this matter? Or was I going to shrug and say, "sure thing, whatever floats your boat."

I had decided to be that old friend she used to have, hence looking at her as that old friend who I trusted back in the day five years earlier.

"No, what if all hell breaks loose like last time?"

"Pfft, what? I got one little scar! Besides, I'll be careful this time, D."

"What is your definition of 'careful'? Having sexual relations with a mob boss and accepting hits of crank from random derelicts you meet? It's time to think a bit more rationally, Selina. Make some amends and maybe get a real job-"

"A real job? I don't even have my fucking _GED_, Dian! I'm doing what I can with the limited choices that I do have!"

"Then why do you want my advice? I can't hand you my high school and college degrees. You have made some bad choices, so you're going to have to pay those consequences. I can't help you."

"You can be a friend, Dian! A friend, that's what I need. I just want your suggestions."

"Like I said-"

"What happened to ya?" she suddenly broke in. She stood up.

"Ha ha! Oh, shit, that's like the biggest hickey I've ever seen!"

I blushed and covered up the side of my neck with my hand.

"Shut up, I fell."

"Right, so who gave you that gnarly thing?"

"You're completely off topic! Do you want my advice? Gather what money you do have, pay off the lowlife that gave it to you and go waitress somewhere, or retail, I don't give a damn, just move on, and do so with a decent mind. You can only save yourself. Do so by staying out of trouble."

"Please, D, I live for _havoc_. I can't just be a good, smart girl like you. It would be nice, though. To just do the right thing, with no rebellion and no guilty pleasures. Hmmph, what a beautiful life you must have...to just stride on with an overly content sense of mind and just forget everything wrong you've ever done…"

She opened the door and shot me a final look and statement.

"Oh, what I'd give to just _be_ ya! Well, see ya later, I'm off to that new strip joint, _Carnal_. Wish me luck, D."

She succinctly slammed the door as if to give her final insults.

Though I pitied her to a powerful expanse, I had to credit her on one thing.

She helped me get my mind off _him_.


	15. Trust me

_**Trust me**_

The ringing of my phone shook me out of my dazed slumber seemingly hours later. I had fallen asleep on the couch shortly after Selina left. Though I felt more relaxed and felt that my composure was now more collected, I was still out of it and groggy to the hilt.

The vexatious ringing continued on. I sighed and leant upwards from my previous fetal-like position. I snatched the phone off of the receiver and adjusted my eyes onto the small bright screen that read: **Wayne, Bruce (346) 675-2310**.

"Bruce?" I yawned.

"Dian, how are you? Do you feel any better?"

"Eh, moderately. Any leads?"

"None. He's really sticking to the shadows this time. Gordon and I haven't blinked so little in eight years…"

"Sticking to the gray silhouettes our bodies omit, huh? I'd presumed that was _your_ obligation," I teased, attempting to lighten up the conversation.

"Pff, I was once. Now I'm crusading the streets in broad daylight looking for the freak."

"Bruce...how about you take a break?"

"I'd love to Dian, but-"

"We can go to that fancy restaurant on Forte Street tonight. Just to let loose and get our minds off of-" I hated referring to him, "_him_," I finished.

"I don't have time to have fun, Dian. I'm afraid you'll have to go with someone-"

"I'll be there at 8, Bruce. You better not stand me up. Bye."

I purposely hung up. I had to do it. He was busting a nerve a second from all this strain he was putting on himself, just to track down the wild freak show. He had to chill, and so did I. Enough was enough, at least for the remainder of that night.

I glanced at the clock to see that it was already 5:23. I'd slept in a tad later than I'd anticipated. No matter, I would just use the time I did have left to get ready. I was going to look spectacular for him, Bruce that is, not the other..._him_.

I went through my closet in search of something at least slightly elegant. I spotted my favorite black spaghetti strapped dress with a decent V-neck with my 4 inch, dark purple heels. That would do, along with some mascara, eyeliner, (just a smidge, much unlike Selina, who'd always smear it all over her lids like the hooker she was) and a touch of velvet eye shadow.

I always preferred wearing my hair completely down. No buns, braids or bobbypins, just to let loose my long and semi unkempt hair down my back.

Those two hours went by fast. It was nearing 7:30, so I decided to jet then. Hopefully, Bruce would take up my almost required offer and meet me I was very iffy, for he was _so_ hellbent on his work lately, and I really couldn't blame him, for we'd all be at rest once the Clown was put away for good, especially me.

Still, I craved a nice dinner out with my best friend. It had been a while since we'd dined out together, so I stroke up the opportunity the first chance I got, although times were indeed tremulous.

I grabbed my purse and checked first thing to make sure my mace was tucked away securely in there, considering my absent pistol. I was almost afraid to ask Bruce for _another_ one, though he was likely to shrug it off and practically place a fresh one in my hand with no expectations of payment. He was prestigious and well comprised of weaponry after all.

I walked out and headed to my old silver Grand Pre that I hadn't touched in nearly three weeks. I walked just about everywhere those days, for it seemed that the majority of my destinations were of walking distance, and I could always go for the extra exercise.

The small French restaurant titled _Nouveau_ was around fifteen minutes away by car. I got there at 7:47 and headed inside to wait in the foyer. If Batman really cared for my sake of relief and solace from this cursed city's very limited appeasement, then he'd show up. Another thirteen minutes would give that answer.

…

"_Yes! Thank you, Bruce!"_

He'd showed up at 8:05 looking more on the glum side. He probably didn't want to partake in this evening of undergoing a brief vacation from his duties, the overachiever.

"Hi!" I exclaimed then gracefully wrapped my arms around his broad torso, while he sighed in response.

"Dian...I understand your need for a little relaxation, but-"

"Oh hush," I scolded. I grabbed his firm and masculine hand and interlaced my more nimble fingers through his thicker ones.

"C'mon, let's enjoy ourselves, just for tonight," I encouraged while pulling him behind me through the entrance. He groaned very silently, though I could still hear him, like how a feline could hear the limber tapping of feet scampering across a broad wooden floor from far across the house, okay, that was a pathetic analogy...but it proves my indication, at least.

"Di-"

"Bruce, honey. Shut up."

We approached the front counter and came face to face with the elderly host, who appeared genial yet tired from a long days standing and greeting.

"A table for two," I chipped in, while Bruce added, " a _booth_ would be a prefer-" I jabbed his shoulder and hushed up that gruff and impatient sounding tone of his. The negative brood.

"Whatever you have," I complied, while the man simply shrugged and gathered a couple menus and made his way ahead of us.

"This way, if you will. We have an open booth right over here." He directed us towards the booth in a dim and unpopulated area in the corner, much to Bruce's _preference_.

We took a seat across from one another and the host handed us our menus and told us that he'd return momentarily. I opened mine up to skim over the wines before the meal I was to order, while Bruce didn't seem to have much of an appetite, for his mind was too boggled with thoughts of getting back out there and patrolling his ass off.

"Bruce, would ya please at least try to have a good time? We _never_ get to do anything like this."

"Resilience and prospect shall remain on my mind this evening, Dian. Don't try to bring out a man who wants to 'let loose', because he will not be coming out-"

"Bruce! For Christ's sake, just calm down and talk to me! This is just a dinner, not a wild New Years party! Pfft, God forbid you ever attend one of those…"

"_Attend?_ I hold a rather spacious one at the penthouse every year, in case you forgot," he remarked. He sighed for the third or fourth time that evening and flipped his menu open to the side dish page. Right then I knew he would be eating like a bird that night, a very un-peckish one at that.

"I hope you don't think that you're just going to order some crackers and a small bowl of tomato soup…"

"I'm content with that."

"Bruce, order some real food, dammit. I'll even pay for it if I have to."

"Hush, a salad topped with vinaigrette can make a damn fine appetizer."

I rolled my eyes and smiled at his slight sense of humor that he'd suddenly decided to let loose. Maybe tonight wouldn't be such a bitch for him after all.

The waiter returned minutes later with a clipboard held firmly in his right arm and a pen ready.

"I'll have the vegetarian lasagna with a glass of red wine," I stated, then glancing over at Bruce who looked almost reluctant to order.

"And you, sir?"

"...The house salad with ice water."

Ugh…

"Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

He walked off leaving me to give Bruce a deserved raised eyebrow. He shrugged and set his menu aside.

"I'm not too peckish tonight, Dian."

"Hmmph, I can tell. Is it your ultimate goal to get out of here as fast as you can?"

He adjusted himself in his seat. He then met my eyes and said, "to be entirely honest, yes, it is."

How inconsiderate!

"Well then...I guess I'll just try to enjoy the time _I do hav_e with you."

"Touché."

Jerk.

I sighed and rested my head in my hand. This whole thing was pointless. I should have guessed that Bruce would not be up for this at all. He just loved keeping his perfectly shaped nose up Gordon's ass on trying to 'locate' the _Joke_. In a way I was perhaps betraying Bruce, much to my personal disliking, but what would I say? _Oh, yeah, I met up with him last night atop the old skyscraper and we hit it off promptly after my little effort to hand his ass to him with a two-foot long crowbar I found laying about._

Then again, he probably wouldn't have believed me anyway. He likely would've shrugged the whole thing off as a poor attempt to get him to stop fixating on the Clown. I refused to take any chances though. I held my breath.

Bruce continuously glanced at the eloquent roman numeral clock hung on the wall to our right. It was just 8:31, and Bruce was determined to get back to the MCU once he'd swallowed his final bite of vinaigrette-drenched lettuce.

"I'm sure Jim and the others are doing _all right_, Bruce," I sighed, in an attempt to get his mind of the damned place.

"They'd all be _better_ with me around," he remarked, while now tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table.

The waiter showed up with our dinner at 35 after. I was most pleased when he set the bottle of _Gallo_ before me, signifying that I could indulge myself to full authority. At least if I was a bit tipsy then I could actually _deal_ with Bruce a bit better.

I glanced at Bruce's small pile of leaves sprinkled with a few croutons and thousand island and I giggled.

"Dig in."

He did just that. He shoveled a single leaf past his lips at a time. I poured my fancy wine into my tall glass and sipped away. The lasagna wasn't too shabby, at least it was far better than what Bruce had on his hands, or rather, his fork.

A few minutes went by with just the two of us silently eating and avoiding eye contact. I had to break this hefty imbroglio.

"So would you say that your dish is filling?"

"Yes, very."

"Hmmph, right," I teased, then gulped down the rest of my wine (just what was in my current glass).

Then a major nuisance was brought up. Bruce's cell began to ring, and my heart nearly plummeted from disappointment.

He answered it before the ring had a chance to finish its first run.

"Gordon?...Yes, I'll be there shortly."

He stood. I felt my face burn in frustration. One night! That's all I wanted with him. _One godforsaken night!_

"Huh, duty calls, Diana. I'm sorry." He leaned in to kiss my forehead, but I slapped him to halt him from trying to make up for his rude and abrupt leaving.

"Asshole! You _wanted_ to get out of here! You're enlightened that he made that call!"

"Dian, I didn't want this, okay? Desperate times call for desperate mea-"

"Shut up, Bruce, don't give me that excuse."

He pulled out his wallet and handed me a wad of cash.

"Here, I'm paying for the whole thing, now I have to get going-"

"Is this how you're going to make it up for me? Paying an extra fifteen damn bucks to compensate for your call of duty? Why don't you tell Gordon to just call someone else in for Pete's sake?!"

He rolled his eyes and began to walk off. I tossed the money on the table and heatedly went after him.

The waiter caught me making an exit and confusedly mumbled, "Eh, Miss-"

"Money's on the table," I declared then stormed on out of the place. Bruce could really stride fast. I had trouble catching up to him in my tall and flimsy heels. He knew I was following after him, how couldn't he have? My shoes were clanking loud making a perfect giveaway. Not to mention he knew I was too headstrong to let this go over my shoulder just lik_e that._

"C'mon, Bruce! Stop!" He made it to his Mercedes and went around to unlock the door, just as I caught up with him. He got in, as did I.

"Dammit, Dian. I have to do this-"

"Why? Why is going back to work at nine o'clock at night after hauling your ass all day long so imperative?"

"Because _**H**__**e's**_ on the loose! I won't settle down until he's wiped away from society! I wont let him win. He's going dow-"

"He _will_ win!" I hollered, not really thinking that through, and not caring at the same time.

"He will, no, he _has_ already, Bruce. Just face it. He's more clever than you ever will be. He's a sick and vile man, but he's got wit, and plenty of it. You're just too disagreeable to accept that-"

"Dian, _get out_."

"No, Bruce, not until you admit that you're _obsessed_ with this crazed freak!"

"Dian…"

He kept his eyes fixed on the wheel, as I wanted to meet them desperately.

"Look at me, Bruce, and tell me that you are more dedicated to bringing this terrorist down than being with your best friend."

He glared at me, his deep brown eyes piercing my soul.

"Are you really _that_ stubborn, Bruce? Are you really _that_ afraid to admit that-" I was cut off by his virile hand shooting past my head and onto the back of my neck. The next thing I knew my lips were being crushed roughly against his. My face went aflame with bewilderment and angst.

He continued to roughly smash his mouth against mine for another minute before reaching his free arm around and wrapping it swiftly around my side then pulling me onto his lap.

"Uh-Mm, Bruce-"

"_Shh_."

He leaned his seat back and positioned me more to his comfort. My legs were separated and aside his hips in a sensual position. He locked his arms around me to keep me in place as we made out.

His hands traveled all around my back, making me feel a twinge of excitement every time his hands grabbed away at my waist.

"Bruce, why are you-"

"I'm proving myself," he panted then shut me up by keeping his hand pressed onto the back of my head and holding my head in place as his lips vigorously moved on mine. God, we hadn't even kissed in over five years, so this behavior was entirely out of the blue for this mysterious recluse.

Things only got more intense when his hand traveled down around my rear and firmly gripped it making me jolt in a startlement. He began to peel my dress up above my waistline and shove his hands down into my underwear.

"B-bruce…"

He mouth moved to my neck and he planted kisses in a smooth line up to the lobe of my ear, luckily not taking notice of the large purple mark left there from the previous night.

I felt a hardness beneath me and blushed in a sudden huge realization. The wake up call didn't really endure until he gestured me to unzip him.

"No, Bruce, I-I can't."

"Why, Dian? _Why not_?" he nearly growled in a very mocking tone.

"We're - we're not _this_ anymore-"

"We _can_ be," he argued, while coming _so close_ to getting my underwear down. Too close. I had to stop this.

I backed away while still holding his jawline in my hands.

"Bruce, baby, I seriously can't do this…"

"Funny, I thought you wanted me as far away from the MCU as possible…"

"Bruce, now is just not a good time to-"

"I understand," he grumbled, while looking extraordinarily defeated. I did feel bad. Chances were that I would've gone all the way with him if my guilty conscience weren't constantly flashing back the night just 24 hours earlier. I didn't want to believe that I'd made love with the Joker, but there was no point in denying the fact. I felt like a promiscuous vamp.

I pulled my dress back down to conceal my bare thighs and laced panties that were still fully on.

"Dian, I want you."

"Why now?" I just had to break in. I was certainly confused. He was the one who broke up with me after all, claiming back then that dating me, and really any woman in general, is far too 'risky'. That I was _vulnerable_, and he couldn't risk losing me to the captivity or murder from one of his many enemies. Nonetheless, it had broken my heart.

"Right then, we'll wait until the Circus Reject is locked away in Arkham and then we're going to try this again."

"Oh, sure, whatever you believe, _honey_," I scoffed then opened up the car door and stepped out. He grabbed my wrist and locked his grasp.

"Listen to me, Dian. We can make this work. Trust me."

"Bruce, no, I don't think-"

"Just _trust _me," he repeated all serious minus any doubt at all.

He shut the door and drove off. I supposed that was his way of cutting off any more of my debates.

Shit, I had a lot to contemplate. Things were just becoming too much for me to handle.

And things only worsened when I met the eyes of a man in dark clothing off in the distance...appearing to have deep scars on each side of his cheek.


	16. He's not going anywhere

_**He's not going anywhere**_

I was slightly tipsy, so what I was seeing may have just been a mere hallucination, at least, I **prayed** that it was!

I squinted and met his crazed expression. If this _was_ who I believed to be, you know, then wouldn't he have red, black and white war paint layered thick on his face? This man's face was free of all of that, except for those two deep cuts embedded on each of his cheeks.

I decided to snap out of my obfuscated trance when he creepily cocked his head as if trying to let me know that he was a threat, and a major one at that.

I decided not to sprint for my car until he began to step closer to me. Joker or not, this man was a freak, and I did not want to hang around this potential victim of hysteria.

I'd made it to my car door, keys shaking furiously in my hand, but I could hear the man's footsteps gaining on me. I placed my trembling left hand over my right in an attempt to hold it firmly in place while fighting to unlock my door.

It was too late however.

I was shoved roughly against my car door, this crazed lunatic's arms wrapped around me to hold me in place while my backside was pressed against his front.

"Ya miss me, snoogums? What's it been? 12? 13 hours?"

"Get. The. Hell. Away. From. Me."

"Hell ain't anywhere near us, darling." He snatched my keys out of my quivering hand and moved me over to the back door. He unlocked it and threw me inside. He followed in immediately afterwards. He closed the door and scrambled on top of me.

I met his face. This was the Joker indeed, just without any of that obscene makeup on, none at all, in fact. I could now see just how young he appeared to be. I doubted he was much older than 30. He almost looked like a normal man, but those scars just couldn't allow a full hundred percent to declare it an ordinary complexion. His light brown eyes met mine, and his shaggy hair was unkempt, falling over his cheeks and forehead. For a second I could not move at all. It was as if I was paralyzed in horror.

"Do you want to know what I did today?" he chipped in, as I was far too weak to have a triumphant chance at getting him off of me. I'd have to listen.

"What? Did you kill a few hundred people?"

"Whoa now, that was quite the guess there! No, no. I did something just a little more _productive_…"

"You know, Batman just left, so I'd start running now if you want to live to see the light of tomorrow, because he is just a mere phone call awa-"

A sickening realization hit me. I'd left my purse in Bruce's car...my life seemed to be just screw up after screw up didn't it?

"Uh-"

"BWWWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You think ol' Bats can stop me? Didn't you learn anything from..._last night_?"

I freed my right arm and gave him a well-deserved smack across his face. He neglected to wince. I was weaker than I'd presumed. I couldn't help but to notice the obvious tent in his dark striped pants that my smack had inflated. Apparently pain was a turn-on for him. What made it more obvious was the fact that he said / slobbered in my ear, "Wanna go camping?" He couldn't have been much more of a chauvinistic pig if he tried.

I flinched my head the other direction, absolutely revolted. He howled with laughter and dug his arms beneath me. I was far too flimsy to stop him.

"Oh, you, you are _fun_." He dropped his head down into the nape of my neck. He just inhaled and exhaled for about a minute. Just as a hint of relief at his calming down had settled within me, it was immediately destroyed when he forced my legs apart and rocked his hips into me.

"I'll give ya another go at our little guessing game. You guess what I did today _correctly_, then I let ya go, and if you're _wrong,_ then I get to fuck ya again, right in here."

The evading prick. It was a losing game. Heads, he won. Tails, I lost. How the hell was I supposed to know what this freak got away with in thirteen hours? He may have been a cynical loon, but he was brilliant with his antics, whether it was blowing up an array of edifices with his backed turned away from the blazing fire or…well, just making anything explode in general...he was quite clever to say the least.

I doubted that he blew up anything _that_ day, for I certainly would have heard about it, and Bruce would have never even showed up for our still disastrous dinner. I had to give my best speculation, for my own sake. I was still baffled by my unplanned session that I'd just had with Bruce. He'd said it. He wanted me back. Truthfully, that had excited me. I was definitely considering dating him again, and letting that nasty and regretted body intertwine with the wicked bastard stay in the past where it belonged.

"Guess!" he retorted above me after I let around forty seconds of hardcore vacillation pass.

"Give me a hint."

"No, that'd be breaking the rules, sweetheart." His blatant hardness was now pressed to my feminine area.

"Um, d-did you, um-"

"Spit it out!"

"Steal something?"

He glared down at me and sighed. My breath was hitched in my chest and I was achingly weak. He could've had his way with me right then, with no struggle at all. I was completely vulnerable.

"Incorrect, my dear…" he chuckled in my ear, not hesitating to purse his lips on the lobe and run his snake-like tongue on the inside. I quivered in aversion. I decided to take up the opportunity to improvise by asking him what he _did_ do that day. Not to mention I was _slightly_ curious.

"Well? What did you do?!" I asked angrily, getting him to pause and breath slowly on my neck.

"As you probably know, I'm an agent of chaos-_sah_, so I acted out something a little unruly according to society's precious establishment…"

I sighed and prepared myself for the absolute worst.

He pulled out one of his many knives from his coat and held it just inches before my face.

"I had to use this on some A - hole who wouldn't pay up for a little favor I did for him."

Before he had the chance to lean in for a kiss, I scoffed, "what did you do, _blow_ the guy?" in a poor attempt to insult him. He laughed of course, before smacking my face numb. It was sure to bruise after the fit of rage mixed with insanity that he'd just released using his right palm on my left cheek.

"Oh, ho ho, you're a bold one, aren't ya? Think you can embarrass me? Oh, now you're really gonna get it."

His tongue was vigorously inserted past my lips not even a second after that last word was spoken. At least he wasn't wearing any of that cheap and messy makeup that I thought he could leave his abode without. His skin was soft aside from the gashes on his cheeks that were rubbing against mine in a rough fashion. His lips certainly felt better and I didn't have to taste any of that bitter red dye that he'd had smeared generously on his lips the previous night. My right hand was now held down aside my shoulder against the flannel carpet-like back seat of my car. My left arm was still securely pinned beneath me, falling asleep and losing more and more circulation by the minute.

I weakly fought to yank myself away from him, and failed miserably. He had me where he wanted me. I just had to accept my ridiculously unfortunate circumstances yet again, and this time, it was twice in a godforsaken row.

After a few minutes of aggressive necking, he broke the kiss and panted inches from my face. What he said next both relieved me and unnerved me to an incredulous extent.

"We'll finish this later on, babe. I have a task for you."

"W-what?"

He leaned up off of me, releasing my left arm from his and my weight. It throbbed and vibrated in relief. He practically kicked my door back open and backed out, dragging me promptly with him.

He got out and lifted me into his arms from the lain position I was previously in. I was blindingly shoved against the drivers side as he unlocked my front door. Once opened, he roughly shoved me in, slammed the door and relocked it. He walked around the front of my car, not taking his dark and crazed hues off of me for a second.

He got in on the passengers side. What he did next took me by surprise, if that was even possible at this point.

He pulled a gun out of his coat and held it aside my head, as if bored with threatening me with his blade stash. I felt like passing out again, at least if I did, I wouldn't have to do anything for this wild psychopath.

"Are you serious?!" I couldn't hold in. He responded with an _actually light_ chuckle.

"Never. I need ya to help me run some errands is all."

These 'errands' were highly likely to involve the murder of some, if not many people. I could not partake in this.

"No. I can't do it. I'm not going to help you kill anyone."

"I'm holding you at fucking gunpoint, honey. You don't have much of a choice, do ya? Besides, I never said anything about _killing_ anyone, did I?"

"Well, you did tell me that you had to use your knife on someone today, so-"

He shoved the barrel against my head, causing a twinge of pain to erupt through my head. My temple throbbed like never before as he stated another ultimatum through gritted teeth.

"Drive, or you're head is going to be blown off your pretty little neck and through the window."

"W-where do I-"

"Just drive. Get off this street and make a left onto Potol Street. I'll give ya directions from there."

"Why do _I _have to do this?"

I really needed to learn to keep my lips sealed. His free hand went right for the V of my dress and latched on, then he pulled me to his side with great momentum.

"Why don't you stop asking me so many fucking questions and hit the road?! I don't have all night!" he demanded, while digging his nails into my cleavage, drawing a decent amount of blood.

"Okay! Fine!" Anymore ranting would get me a guaranteed membership to the 27 Club.

He handed me the keys; they nearly fumbled out of my shaking hand. I started up my car and drove out of the lot, realizing that there was no escape.

I was stuck with this deluded madman for the entire night.


	17. Dirty Work: Part 1

_**Dirty Work: Pt. 1**_

"Drive faster, dammit!" he growled after I'd made the first few turns that he'd instructed.

"There's a speed limit, and I have to follow it. I'm not a rebellion like you," I remarked, stupidly. I had received another forceful blow from his large weapon to my head. A migraine was certain to kick in any time now.

"Shut up, and do as I say."

I nodded quickly to let him know that I was through with protesting. One more hit with that machine gun of his and I was sure to suffer a nasty hemorrhage.

"So, where am I going?" I silently asked as polite as I could manage.

"To the Narrows. I've got some business to take care of."

Oh God, not the _Narrows! _It was the worst and most dangerous part of Gotham to live in, with criminal rates off the charts. Miscreants were prevalent on every little street corner in this ghetto. Not even Bruce was ever willing to do work in there.

"I'm not comfortable with that town...could I drop you off somewhere near-"

"What did I tell you? You have no say in the matter. Shut it before I do it for ya."

I kept silent.

Another five minutes ticked on before we were within the city limits of the Narrows. I'd never been there, nor had I ever wanted to delve into the risky streets of prostitution, murder and mafia business. I supposed that the Joker, on the other hand, had payed a visit to this gangland of a town on a regular basis.

"Keep driving ahead. We're close."

"Um, what do you need to do?"

"Nosy little bitch, aren't ya?"

"Yes," I admitted. I wanted to know what the hell he was planning. Was he going to kill some people or do some mob business? I felt that I had to know.

"I'll tell ya when we get there." _Yeah right._

I pulled up to a tall building in an intersection at the end of Hutre street. I pulled into the empty lot and parked by the front of the building. The place appeared to be closed, for there were no lights on anywhere it seemed. It was 10:00 at night, so I assumed that anyone who normally worked there was already home.

"I think they're closed," I mumbled, while he scoffed as if to say "no, shit?"

"Well, they're never technically open, hon. This is an abandoned warehouse. Some..._comrades_ of mine use it for...business."

"What _kind_ of business?" I had to ask.

"What do you think? Oh, just some stock exchanging is all."

"I'm serious-"

He grabbed a chunk of my hair and yanked harshly. "You wait here for me. I'll be back in less than twenty minutes. And don't even _think_ about taking off, because I will find you, and I will _punish _you."

"Tell me what you're doing!"

"He opened the door and stepped out. "You'll see."

He slammed the door. I watched him as he walked off into the building, opened the apparently unlocked door and strided in, gun still tucked securely in his bent arm.

I had to make a decision. I could either escape while I could, risking the chance of him hunting me down with the first chance he got, for nothing was a needle in a haystack for him. Or I could be obedient with his order and remain put, hence putting myself to shame for being so susceptible to him. Not to mention he had my keys with him, and I wouldn't get too far with running, not that I wanted to be out free and impotent in this neighborhood. Frankly, I was better off with the clown.

Judging the damage he'd already done to my body, including the two cuts on my left thigh, the bruised bite-mark on my neck and the throbbing the right side of my head was enduring from the thrust of his metal machinery, I'd decided it'd be best to just give in this one last time. Bruce would be finding out of this freak's plans sooner or later, for I'd definitely had enough of falling victim to the Ace of Knaves heinous shenanigans.

A few disquieting minutes ticked on. I pondered immensely about what he was doing in there. It was surely something illegal, and potentially suicidal as well. He just loved throwing himself into perilous situations. That was how he got his kicks.

I rested my aching head in my hands, to feel a large bump and some blood dabbed around the roots of my hair. That dastardly prick.

I luckily had some napkins handy in my glove compartment, so I used them to wipe away some of the blood. I held the tissues to my head and closed my eyes in an attempt to calm down. Another few minutes ticked on I was on the brink of passing out, having exceeded my daydreaming phase.

I was slumped over on my gear compartment, my arm being used to support my head. I was exhausted, even though I technically got plenty of rest that day after getting home from the incident on the skyscraper.

I regretted not staying with Bruce, although staying in there would have ultimately led to sex. At this point, who cared? I did love him, both romantically and platonically. He could protect me, and he was really the only person I could confide in for just about anything. I had no family, at least, no close family. My mom was living in solitude out in Kansas, and my older sister, Gillian, lived a couple states away, and we were heavily estranged. She had a family of her own and a nice, stable life, unlike myself. She assumingly thought too large of me, just because I was 'Wonder Woman'. She was jealous, and thought me an arrogant, pretentious bitch. At least, this was what she told me a few years earlier via phone. It hurt yes, but what could I do? I could carry on, that was the solution.

Carrying on in _this_ situation was not effortless. Though I could hardly fathom coming to terms with it, I was essentially this man's bitch. His slave. His personal escapade. His toy. Just sitting in my car, aftermath to being physically and mentally neglected, and forced to wait for his return, which would be just minutes away.

I was already lightly snoring when I was shaken awake by two loud and unnerving gunshots. I jolted upwards and drew my eyes to the building. I knew the Joker's work must have been complete, because seconds later the front door was thrown open and he sprinted out laughing, appearing to be engulfed in pure bliss and absolute satisfaction with whatever the hell he just got away with.

I tensed up intensely as he swiftly opened the door and got in ordering me to "step on it!"

Just as I turned the ignition I saw three men trample out of the place, one making a keen shot with his gun through my back window, making my heart skip a few paces. I stomped onto the gas and sped the hell out of there.

"Jesus Christ! What did you do?!" I screamed at him, looking over to notice that his trench coat's inner and outer pockets were filled with cash.

"They were a little overdue on a bill, sweetheart," he declared while rolling his window down and aiming his rifle out the window.

"Oh God, what are you-" he shot twice at one of the cars behind us, the first one in line that was chasing us. He'd succeeded in putting the car to in imminent halt, for the shot had gone through the drivers side and struck the driver, making my stomach flip at the hazy view of it through my rearview mirror.

"Shit, what do I-"

"Just keep your foot on the gas, baby! And swerve, ya need to do that if we're gonna make it outta this too."

I did as instructed and drove like an intoxicated drunkard who was heavily under the influence. My car was going back and forth in a crooked line and I was speeding at 80mph. Thank God the roads were bare except for us and the two vans behind us. I heard continuous gunshots throughout a course of nearly two minutes. I'd never been so adrenaline filled in my life. This was the utmost bullshit I'd ever been put through.

I had to keep my head ducked throughout the whole crazy scamper down this long road through the Narrows. I was hyperventilating big time. Two vans were on our ass now, each slowly gaining on us. I secretly prayed that the Joker would hurry up and make his shot at the vehicles following us.

"Come on, shoot them!" I bluntly threw out, probably turning him on at my sudden and vociferous recklessness.

"Patience, Dian! I'm aiming for a good head-shot with this one," he replied. He cocked his gun just then, doing just as he intended. The van made a screeching halt and swerved into a streetlight. The madman aside me applauded his perfect aim with a hysterical laugh, half his body still outside the window, prepared to shoot off the final chaser.

Next thing I heard was an array of shots, then a loud screeching. The van had swerved into a ditch, completely out of our sight in seconds. The freak leaned back inside and adjusted himself into the seat, blowing the tip of his weapon to clear the bit of smoke clouded around it.

I was astounded at his audacity. "Are you proud of yourself?"

"You bet. This shit excites me so damn much it makes me hard."

Blunt asshole.

"So…"

"So what? I took care of some business, and not everyone in there was willing to contribute, so I had to take some lives."

"You killed people for a little extra cash?!" I stammered, shocking myself that I was _even_ shocked at this usual behavior for him.

"You've got a lot to learn about me, babe."

"You can start by telling me your real name then."

Some silence settled in after that. He sighed and wrapped his arm around me. I couldn't smack it away like I wanted to, or I would likely suffer another infliction from him.

"I can't tell you _that_. Not here. Not now."

"Why? You know me. It's unfair that you get to know who I really am, when I can't have the right of calling you by who you really are."

"I don't trust you, sweetie. You work with the feds and all that shit," he complied while shaking an accusing finger at me is if scolding me. "You're friends with not only the _Batman_ but Gordon too. Last thing I need is you going off and ratting out my identity to the authorities, give 'em something to feed off of...no, no, I can't let tha_**t**_ happen."

"Like I'd tell Batman or Gordon that I'm acquainted with you!"

_Acquainted?_ Why did I put it _that_ way?!

"What was that? I'm...I'm a friend of yours? Damn, I didn't ever think that I'd hear ya refer to me that way!"

UGH.

"Disregard that. You're no friend. I only meant that-"

"I think I'm gonna have to reward ya, sweetheart...but with what? Maybe some money, or a gift card, or, or-"

"Letting me go?!" I suggested, to his followed cackle-like scoff.

"Right, like you can just roam free after what's happened tonight. Nice try."

"B-but I just helped you, don't I get to go home for the night?"

"Pfft, oh Diana, the night's just _begun_."


	18. Dirty Work: Part 2

_**Dirty Work: Pt. 2**_

I was flabbergasted.

"What? _Just_ _b-begun_?! Are you out of your mind?!" I already knew the answer to that, of course.

"You really _do_ have a lot to learn about me."

"Ugh … where to?"

"The ol' Tavern up here on 4 Mile."

I did as he told and kept my very curious lips sealed. So, I supposed I wouldn't be finding out his birth name anytime soon. I just couldn't help but take dire interest in his personal background. I already knew the _Joker_. I wanted to know the _man_ he was. How old was he? Where is he from? Why does he do the things he does? Why the hell was he so infatuated with Gotham and even Batman to an extent?

I glanced at my clock. "It's 10:34 … how about we call it a night?" I suggested, at least trying to get him to come to his senses. Though I'd forgotten yet again, he didn't have any.

"You're just _dying_ to know what it's like to feel a bullet make its way through your skull, aren't ya?"

"I'm just saying-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

My right ear rang in conclusion to taking in his deafening retort. I began to shake again and feel the urge to vomit from the overwhelming angst I was enduring. I pulled into the pub-like inn and parked. The lot was bare mind a few cars. What was he going to do now? God, did I have to _pray_ that it wouldn't be any more mafia business. I already had a decent bullethole and crack through one of my backseat windows, and a loss of many of thousands of nerves in my body. I'd had enough stress for the night, seriously.

"Stay in here, doll. I'll return in a few."

"What are you-"

"Shit, maybe I'll bring some goddamn _duct tape_ back with me," he cut in, then slammed the door. I, on sudden impulse, shouted for him.

"Bring me in with you, please!"

I wanted _that _badly to know what he was up to … and I had to pee. He shot a wary eye at me and then slowly swayed over towards my door.

He unlocked it and threw the door open. "What? Ya too bored hanging around out here?"

"Please, I - I have to use the bathroom."

He smirked and tilted his head as if to imply that he wanted me to consider a better judgment.

"Oh, you don't wanna go in _there_, sweetheart. You'll come back out bringing something with ya. Those toilets are filthy-"

"I don't care! And I'll behave, I promise. I'll keep out of your way." He looked down and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He grabbed my arm and yanked me out in one harsh heave. I nearly stumbled at the rapidity. He slammed my door and forced me in front of him. He kept his free hand grasped around my wrist as he guided me ahead of himself.

"O-ow, hey-"

"Shh, ya better keep your word, toots."

He shoved me into the dark bar, his gun pressed unyieldingly against the small of my back. The entrance was indeed very dark, except for the dim red light towards the end of the hallway. I struggled to adjust my eyes to the dull lighting of the room to scan the doors to try and seek out the restroom.

He didn't seem to struggle at all however. He, like a graceful feline, absolutely keen on perception, rushed me over towards the right and shoved me through a swing door, which was apparently the ladies' room.

It was bright in there, and four stalls were present along with a few sinks, mirrors and tampon dispensers. He walked me right over to the stall on the far end, swung the door open and shoved me inside. "There ya go," he grumbled, then closing it and locking it. He didn't seem too willing to leave the restroom as a whole. I may have slept with this malevolent freak, but I still had _some_ shame.

"Go wait outside!"

"Why?"

"Uh-um, because I don't want you to … _hear_ me!"

"UGH, God, what a priss...I'll be right outside the door, sweets. You're going _nowhere_." I waited for his loud footprints to disappear out of the bathroom. It wasn't until then when I pulled my dress above my waist and slipped my undergarments down. I was quick to relieve myself, for I knew he could come back in in any given moment and bust my door right open, ready to act out on his likely abundant carnal urges.

I was out washing my hands just seconds later. Once I had them under the dryer, his bastardness walzed in while shouting, "ya done yet, prince - oh, c'mon then."

My hands, despite not even being leveled down to mere dampness yet, he still didn't hesitate to drag me right out of there back into the darkness, lucidly impatient.

"God!"

"Hush, now you keep right next to me, got it? These men don't fuck around, like _I do_, on the other hand. And don't muster a single noise, or you'll regret it later."

"Yeah, because we both know that I've had enough of _those_ tonight," I spat, to receive a backhand to the back of my head. That prognosticated migraine had kicked in as intended. My eyes watered as he shoved me towards the end of the hall and further into the red infrared beams above.

"Behind me," he silently ordered, then opened the door on the spot after I'd _just_ cowered behind him, his height of over six foot briefly hiding me from the men's view in this room.

He remained at the doorway, but only for a short amount of time. "Good evening! I've come to collect!"

As he marched in further I heard a few grumbled "_oh shits!_" and "_it's the Joker!_"

I did my best to stay behind him, for I certainly didn't even want to be glimpsed at by one of these goons. The Clown was really animated though, right on his heel every damn second. He circled the candlelit room with not much but a large pool table, weed and beer bottles occupying the room.

"Well? Where's the doe? C'mon, it took me _ages_ to find that slovak and slice 'im up, _and_ I had ta kill his buds on the spot along with him, so I'll be gathering _interest_ as well!"

The incognitos' appeared spooked as hell, and I knew their feeling. They were lucky because I'd been dealing with this knave for the past two hours. They'd be getting a piece of him for no longer than a few minutes, but then they'd either meet a cruel and unusual demise or they'd get off lucky with a few broken limbs, some bruises and cuts and maybe some missing teeth. Yet, still, all with _brief_ confrontation, which I just couldn't help but envy at this point.

"Gallyo? You got it?" He asked while circling one of the younger men like a hawk on its prey. He, stiff as a hunk of tree bark, shook his head defiantly. He let him off with a sigh of frustration and moved on to a taller man with a beard and sunglasses.

"How 'bout you, Deen? Hmm? My prize? Ya have it?" He swiped his blade out and held it to his neck. This man didn't appear too fazed, like the last.

"Nah, I don't. This one wasn't my bargain, man." He kept his crazed gaze fixed on him for another few seconds before growling and moving on across the room to meet a masculine black man.

"Who's the chick?" he asked, while gesturing his hand to me and eyeing me suggestively. My stomach flipped back to its original position from earlier when I'd undergone a twinge of dread.

I was actually hoping that the Joker would refute that statement and give him a good piece of his psychotic mind, and perhaps induce a few threatening nicks across the arm as well, but he let him off with a correction, and a poor one at that.

"Whoa now, that's not a chick, that's a _lady_. A _woman_. A _female_. A _dame_. Even a _bitch_. Not a _chick_ though, ya elementary dickhead."

"My mistake, take it easy, now." He put his hands up in defense and teasing apology. I knew that he must have feared him to an extent, for this was the _Joker_ after all, not your average easygoing terrorist, but a few hundred levels up from that with a smothering hit of vanity and an overdose of insanity.

He strided up to the other man who stood a few inches above him, blade clenched in hand and ready for violent usage. He was just inches from his face when he declared his proposition, the same as what he'd told the other two mafiads.

"Give me the cash, Weishar, or half your neck's gonna be hanging off your shoulders in a matter of seconds."

"We've only got ... _half_ right now, man-"

Dear God, that did not cut it. Not for _him_.

"Half?! _HALF?!_" he croaked, ecstatic as I'd ever witnessed him.

"Look, we'll have it all for ya by the end of the week, oka-" He was cut off by, a _literal_ cut-off. His neck began to gush blood, making my vision blur briefly from the horrific phenomenon.

"_Dear God!_" I backed away against the cold stone wall, unable to remove my eyes from the traumatic scene.

"_Tsk tsk_. That was a mistake-_cah_." The other two went for him with their weaponry, of course not having the capability to inflict little to any damage to this conniving madman. He managed to shove both to the floor, then he tapped his left foot roughly to the ground, triggering a thick blade to spring out of the front of his shoe, yet again taking me aback.

"How am I supposed to buy my _honey_ anything _nice_ with only HALF?! Huh?! Tell me, you snivelling pricks!"

"Jesus, man!" the younger guy hollered, only to have his side punctured with the Joker's incisive foot.

I cringed at the view. "Stop it!" I hollered, while mindlessly grasping and clawing away at the wall I was leaning against as if to substitute a stress ball.

"Ya see?! She's be _happy_ if you losers would've had my pay ready to go!" He kicked the bearded man roughly on the side with his nonbladed shoe. "We'd be out of your hair! But nooo … Ya had to postpone your contribution and suffer the consequences! Oh ho, now you're gonna pay!"

He relentlessly kicked his side, getting him to cough up blood after a round of nearly ten forceful thrusts. I had to step in, no matter the damage I'd endure both then and later on.

"ENOUGH!" I threw my arms around his middle and put all of my weight into trying to pry him away. He squirmed a tad in response to my attempted peacemaking before shoving me roughly away.

I hit the floor in a painful thud. I had no choice but to watch this lunatic beat the living shit out of these men. I could take no more. I had to escape. Maybe I could do it; he was distracted anyway, having far too much fun torturing his victims.

I, still on the floor, began to scramble away towards the door, that was opened to welcome my breakaway. I kept my eyes fixed warily on the crazed bully as I slowly and silently made my way out. He didn't seem to notice a thing.

I'd made it to the door without a glimpse of his wild hues shooting at me. I got to my feet and slowly backed away with much deliberance. I was so willing to scamper the hell out of there that I began to trot, my unforgiving heel clanks giving me away.

I began to sprint for the door at the far end of the hall without so much as looking over my shoulder to see just how far he'd gained on me.

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!" he cried from the doorway, as I continued to run towards the free outdoors.

He did gain on me, of course. Why wouldn't he have? He was the _Joker_ for God's sake! He defined himself with what he could do. The devil. He was a human form of Satan, that's what he was.

"NO! NO NO NO! Let go!"

We both fell to the ground. I fought with all my strength. All my _feeble_ strength.

"You're not _behaving,_ Dian! Ya promised ya would!"

"You're a sick fucker!" I cried while managing to knee him, by some heavenly, whimsical chance.

I was freed from his barricade and I heeled for the doorway that was now just feet away.

But I never reached the door handles.

No, I'd been struck over the head.

Blackness surrounded me, and my knees gave out.


	19. Dirty Work: Part 3

_**Sexual Content ahead**_

* * *

_**Dirty Work: Part 3 **_

I groggily came to my senses seemingly hours later. The first thing I noticed was that I was laying down … on a soft mattress. I moved around a bit before allowing my eyes to open. Yes, I did appear to be laying on a semi comfortable bed. My body was free, except for my right hand, that was handcuffed to the bedpost. I slowly opened my eyes to view the dimly lit room. It appeared to be a motel room, and maybe an abandoned one at that. The wallpaper was torn in some areas, the mattress I laid on creaked with every adjustment I'd made, and the TV ten feet before me was very compact and definitely not a 21st century make.

I was the only one in here, but I knew that I wouldn't be for too long. Oh, he'd be back, and I was positive that he had some perverse plans for me. I'd been put through enough of his atrocious antics and abuse that night. I had to get out and find Bruce.

I leaned upwards and fought with my bound hand. I figured that I wouldn't be able to get my hand out of the cuff after a few strenuous minutes of tugging away, reddening the already existent indentation of cut-off circulation even more.

There was a nightstand right aside the bed with a couple of drawers and a lamp atop it. I used my free hand to dig through the first drawer in search of a sharp tool which I could use to cut into the thin wood of the frame to break my cuff free. The first drawer only contained a bible and a flashlight, and the second, a mere pair of nail clippers.

I was stuck where I was. Trapped, yet again. I looked over at the digital clock propped up on the dresser alongside the lamp. It was 1:56am. I'd been out for quite some time. My head was sore, almost as if I was struck over the head with - oh, that's right, I was socked over the head with something rigid and large, likely his machine gun. My neck was sore along with my headache. Chances of escape were now diminished even more so considering my poor physical conditions. Not that I had a single clue of where the hell I was anyway, likely still in the suburban Narrows, a place where a lady should never wander the streets alone at night, nor day, Wonder Woman or not. The Joker had my car keys, and my car, presumably hidden somewhere on the lot.

I stood, nearly stumbling from nausea and a full-body ache. I tested the stability of the old wooden bars behind the pillows. Maybe if I struggled with enough exertion, they would snap apart, for they appeared already very worn.

I yanked and tugged as best I could, not getting anywhere. I was far too weak and the staff was more stable that it appeared. Not a single crack followed my battle. I groaned with frustration and fell back down onto the mattress. He'd win. He always did. This was what I was warning Bruce about earlier. We could always fight this psychotic freak, but we could never really get to him; he'd always get to us first. Or for the time being, just me. I was his new fascination, not Bruce. No, he was getting off lucky compared to what I had to deal with. I was almost envious, the reason for my jealously not being full-blown due to the fact that I wouldn't be able to thrive on keeping count of mere blinks in order to fend off crime in general, and waste time searching for the Joker as if it was his life's calling. I just couldn't handle that. I wasn't strong like he was.

I closed my eyes and figured that drifting off into a subconscious state would help me achieve a sense of relief, at least, a _little_ tranquility anyhow. I laid on my side and kept my eyes shut, skirmishing to clear my mind of my long-suffered anxiety and despair.

Just as my hyperventilation had ceased, it was brought on yet again by the bastard's return. It was loud and proud and begun with a swift opening of the door and a harsh slam thereafter.

My eyes were shot open to meet the ecstatic pupils of the Joker, who was remarkably even more giddy than the last time I'd seen him, and he was carrying a large pillowcase of cash in hand.

My stomach's contents transformed into a horde of butterflies as he skipped over to me and threw himself onto the mattress I laid on. He crawled atop me while I was far too weak to even think about struggling to get him away.

"Hey, honey, guess what?!" he gleefully inquired, while I fixed my eyes on the sack of loot he had firmly gripped in his left hand.

He smacked my cheek playfully, though roughly for not answering him right away. His eyes narrowed and he showoff-ingly shook his bag of money before my eyes.

"I said, GUESS WHAT?"

"W-what?" I could barely focus, both my mental and physical states were diminished significantly.

"They may have only had half, the fuckin' slackers … _but _I did get the doe they did have, ya see?"

I nodded assuringly, for the last thing I needed was another infliction from him, whether it be a slap across the cheek or a blow to the cranium with his metal machinery. Any more of it was sure to kill me.

He then cackled, as usual, then dumped a handful of bills all over me. I flimsily brushed them off as he continued to enjoy himself with what he'd just gotten away with.

"Are you proud of yourself? You killed at least six people tonight just so you could get your greedy hands on a little extra cash. You truly are a demented prick."

His palm met my face at 40mph. My cheek throbbed as he growled like a puma and placed his hand threateningly on my neck.

"I'm glad you're finally catching on a little, babe. I am demented, and I'm not a-fuckin'-shamed to admit it."

He squeezed the front of my neck, nearly cutting off my oxygen. I placed my free hand on his strained wrist and fought to push it away. He chuckled at my discomfort. My suffocating was entertaining him.

"You won't win, hon. Ya never do."

Doesn't mean I couldn't try. I squirmed and had my delicate hand wrapped around his wrist and failed to pry it away. He continued to sneer at my feeble approach, satisfied that he could dominate me so damn easily.

He released his grip on me after my face had gone a deep shade of magenta, or so I believed that it must have, for I was panting like an exhausted dog for breathe.

I coughed and tears shot down my temples, while he kept his position on my waist and enjoyed every bit of this little 'game'.

"Not much of a fighter, I must admit. Ah well, I'm not _always_ up for a fight, sweetie. It's kinda nice having something that I can take over so damn easily…"

That tore it. In a sudden gain of aptitude I sprung upwards and whipped him across his cheek. I then fisted his nose before he had the chance to retaliate. He backed away just enough for me to knee his crotch and spring off the bed in a fierce attempt to make an escape out the door, neglecting to remember that I was still handcuffed to the bedpost. I face-planted the carpeted floor, my bound wrist hung upwards linked to the wooden post, stinging intensely along with the aching of my newly dislocated shoulder.

I yelped out in pain, in both psychological frustration and physical panging. The Joker pulled me back up onto the bed on one powerful yank of the strap on my dress. My head hit the other side of the mattress as he repositioned himself atop me, his gaze irate as ever. He tossed his bag of money down to the floor and removed his trench coat. He pinned down my free hand and postured himself just below my breasts; sitting perched on his knees and glaring down directly at me.

"Do you want more cuts and bruises, Dian? Hmm? Have I not sliced my tools along your delicate skin enough for your liking? Well?! Do you want me to ruin you? To make you a monster like me? _HUH?! DO YOU?!_"

I shook my head in an extreme state of panic. He had his familiar blade gripped firmly in hand, ready to slice away at me in any given moment. I gasped out in horror as he placed the blade at the edge of my neck and held it there, keen on swiping it across my neck like a goddamn _Visa_ card.

"Do ya want to know why I use a knife to kill people rather than a gun? Hmm?"

I laid frozen beneath him. I was through with retorting. I kept my eyes fixed on his crazed stare and remained silent.

"DO YOU WANT TO KNOW? DO YOU?!"

"Y-y-yes."

He sighed. "Guns are _quick_. You can't savor all their … little emotions. Ya see, in their last moments, people show you who they really are."

"So, you feel that the only way you can truly know a person is by gazing into their eyes while slicing their neck? Don't you think that's a little unju-"

I was interrupted by his infamous knife being held against my neck smooth-side down. I then realized that he'd really be _getting to know me_ within seconds if I didn't keep my mouth shut.

"Oh, Dian, you must really be a miserable little thing … you want me to end your life _soo_ badly, that you can't keep your trap sealed! I mean, that _must_ be the case because you keep on yakking away, retorting against all of my _opinions_. Is that it? Do you _want_ me to kill you?"

"No, no I don't."

"Then why do ya keep talking?!"

"I-I just want to leave, that's all I want, please," I begged, hot tears flowing down my temples and soaking my hair; two small pools were now forming at the sides of my head.

"Oh, okay, , let me _let _you go, so you can run off right to the authorities!"

"No, no, I swear to God that I won't! I-I'll go straight back to my place! I won't tell anyone!"

"Not even _Batman_?" he inquired suspiciously, raising his right eyebrow.

I shook my head. "Not even him."

He kept his position on top of me, seeming to contemplate. Wait, since when does he _contemplate?_ He's not a man to think things through. He rather acts on impulse with every situation he succombs and everything he does in general.

"Alrighty then, baby. I'll let ya go, if and when you have a little _fun_ with me first."

God damn it, another one of his outrageous bargains. What now? Another trip to inevitable chaos? To venture out another mob troop who didn't have _all_ of the money for his greedy ass? I was out of it. I literally could not go for whatever he had in mind, yet I played along anyways to prevent any more predicaments.

"Okay, um what do you-"

He tossed his blade towards the other side of the room and buried his hands underneath me in one swift move. I was hovered upwards to meet his chest. His hands laced around my back, and my heart plummeted at what he had in mind. My dress was undone with the diligent craftsmanship of his experienced hands. My straps draped loosely down my shoulders and he swiped my dress down to meet my waist all in less than five seconds.

He shoved me back down and unbuttoned his shirt. He took my hands and guided them up to his chest. My palms met his chest hair as he held onto my wrists to keep them in place. He moved my hands around to let me really get the feel of his admittedly handsome features. He moved them downwards over his nipples, past his navel and then onto his evident bulge.

My face burned as he instructed me to undo him and get into his underwear. I gently shook my head over verbally protesting, still not getting him to let up.

"Do it, or you're going to spend the rest of your days handcuffed to this bed in this room."

He was serious. I had to please him, or else suffer the consequences of never being able to walk under the sky again. I yanked his fly down as quickly as I could. Not only was I already very weak, but I was right handed, hence, having a very flimsy left hand. My right hand was still bound in a metal cuff locked around the wooden post, so I had no choice but to use my clumsy hand to get the job done.

Undoing his button was the real challenge. I had my eyes glued to the ceiling, determined to not get a glimpse of anything I was to do. He didn't like this. He wanted my to see his private area. He wanted me to see what I was doing, and how I was pleasing him.

"Dian, you have to _look_ at it. Don't be a _tease_, now."

That infuriated me. A tease?! God, I'd always hated that word, even more so than _virgin_. That's what I was all through high school. I was mocked for it, by the guys and the girls. I felt at ease when I finally did do the deed, when I was 21 years of age. I'd never been even close to being considered a slut, unlike one woman in my life. (Hint: name starts with 'S' and ends in 'a') No, I enjoyed sex, _if and only if_ it was with a man that I loved, mentally and physically. And as for the Joker, _neither _of those fit my authority.

I focused on his lower area, and continued to struggle with that one little snug button. After a good minute or two passed with me tugging and prodding away at his well-fastened pants, he groaned and swatted my flimsy hand away, to open it up himself with the flick of a couple fingers; no struggle whatsoever.

"There ya go, _flims_. Go on now."

I blushed even harder at my notable frailness. I was just glad that I loathed this man, and that it wasn't Bruce, the man who I actually gave a hardcore damn about. Not that _he_ would have scolded my klutzy ways anyhow. He was considerate and patient, at least when it came to love and sex.

I dug my hand underneath the elastic band holding his black undergarments up, and shyly touched the top of his groin. I felt like a cheap whore, and was about to act like one too. He was satisfied with what I was doing, letting me know of my so far okay work with a groan of pleasure that sounded in his throat.

I pulled his boxers down and traced my hand along his manhood in one slow stride until my fingers met the base. In a sudden and bold move, he wrapped his hand around my wrist and showed me what he wanted me to do by guiding my hand back and forth, having my fingers laced completely around his member and stoking to perfection. After a few repeated gestures he let go and let me work on my own. Maybe if I just closed my eyes and pretended that this man was Bruce I could do just a little better, but he glared down at me, letting me know that I was to keep my eyes peeled all the way through this.

I wasn't sure just how far he wanted me to go with this, for he was already quite hard. He stopped me after what seemed to be the twentieth stroke and he placed his hands on my hips, then proceeded to tug the remainder of my dress down while he slid off me so he could remove his pants and underwear as well as slide my dress completely down past my knees and ankles and then completely off.

We were now both completely nude. I was pinned down into the mattress, his body followed right over me. The previous night had repeated itself, to my greatest fear. I yet again had no choice but to lay helpless beneath him and let him use my body to his own liking and pleasure.

He thrusted and thrusted, while I cringed at the way he consumed all that I was. This was how he broke me. It wasn't the hair pulling, or the savage slaps that'd get thrown across my cheeks, or the threatening with his blade against my neck, or even the cuts he'd already given me using that ungodly weapon of his. It was the sex that would make me weak. The intercourse was what really got the best of me.

I felt a sudden warmness flow inside of me, and I knew he was through. I dared not to ask him to wear contraception, for that would have been answered with a piercing guffaw and maybe a good infliction of violence to follow his chortle.

He laid atop me afterwards, panting hot breaths into my neck and combing his fingers through my hair with his left hand.

"Oh, you … you are perfect, sweetie. Soo _tight_. I like that." He traced his nose along my neck, actually comforting me. He was being gentle for the first time that night.

"May I leave?" I mumbled, as urbane as I could manage.

"Why the hurry? Why ruin the _fun_?"

"You - you promised. Aren't you a man of your word?" I reasoned. He sighed and raised his head to meet my eyes.

"Alright. I want ya to know something first. You're _mine_, whether you want to be or not."

NOT.

"Just keep that in mind, okay? Because I'll always be watching you."

I nodded in detestment as he get off of me and retrieved a key out of his coat pocket. He unlocked the cuff from the post and freed my very raw and sore wrist.

I gathered my clothing and put them back on as fast as I could by the doorway. He sat on the bedside with his underwear on and a lit cigar perched between his lips. I was so determined to get the hell out of there that I'd almost forgotten something.

"Hey, you're forgetting something, lovely, unless of course, you wanted to walk home, that is." He mockingly dangled my car keys in his fingers. I snatched them out of his hand and stormed for the door.

He snickered as I swung the door open and marched on out, finally getting some damn solace. I heard him cackle all the way down the hall, until I was off that floor.

* * *

_Thanks to my followers, reviewers and readers in general. Your enjoyment is highly appreciated :)_


	20. The only way

_**The only way**_

I sped out of the apartment, momentum on check. I was determined to make a successful break for it. I threw the glass entry/exit doors open and strided out, my eyes hopping around everywhere in a wild search for my car. I walked out a good thirty feet, and noticed a silver convertible off in the end of the parking lot next to a black Jeep. I crossed my fingers in hope that it was my car. I jogged over to the familiar vehicle to find that it was indeed mine.

_YES! _

I struggled to unlock my front door due to my still prevailing shakiness in my hands from severed nerves. I got in and fearfully glanced at my gas gage, praying that I wouldn't be on E after that very eventful night. I had enough to make it to the gas station a couple miles outside of the Narrows. At least, it appeared that I was still in the Narrows. I drove off of the lot hurriedly and made a left, hoping that I was headed the right way, for I was pretty unfamiliar with the streets and layout of this slum town.

After a few twists and turns onto various streets I came to recognize where I was. I passed the tavern that the Joker and I were infiltrating earlier, and then I eventually came across the old warehouse, having passed those crashed vans, that were remarkably still there with smoking hoods and caved in windows. I supposed it was typical of the police in this cursed town to not show up _too_ soon after a nasty incident, let alone hours later.

I was the only one on the road, just making circumstances even more eerie for me. It was like this section of Gotham was haunted. Well, in a way it certainly was haunted, the theft driven streets and murder rates having proved that term a considerable definition.

I felt haunted myself. He haunted me. With everything he'd made me do. I was completely vulnerable to him. I'd helped him get away with murdering six (plus) people that night, many of them probably not really deserving it. I was his bitch, his sex toy, his slave, you name it.

I began to sob. I was sore everywhere. Head, back, wrists, neck, arms, legs, feet, jaw, vagina (from his rough carnal metes) and I'd say that my heart had certainly taken quite a beating as well.

I pulled up to an Exxon just outside of the Narrows. I sniffled and wiped the remainder of my tears away and stepped out to fill the tank. When I went in to pay I noticed that it was 2:14 in the morning. At least the Joker didn't get to have me for an _entire_ night.

I got back to my apartment at 2:31. My first priority was to scrub away at my contaminated body yet again, even though I was beyond exhausted. I lathered up and rinsed my entire figure clean, or at least as clean as possible. Once done, I put on a baggy nightgown and decided to check my answering machine, for I was sure that Bruce had left me some messages after … what occurred between us before my 'adventure' with the freak.

He had left me a message, of apology.

"_Dian, you must be immensely upset with me. I understand. I apologize for my sudden and inappropriate outburst earlier tonight. It was both blunt and … stupid, just ignorant… I'd like to stand by what I said, still. I want you. I do. I believe that we can make this work, even if the Joker remains… loose, God forbid. Just, just consider what I have to say, please, Diana. Just think about this, okay? I'll stop by tomorrow sometime, to let ya know how things went for me tonight with Gordon and the authorities, and I'll give you your purse back; ya left it in my car. Have a good night's rest, sweetheart. Love you." _

Bruce had nothing to apologize for. I was the guilty one. I was the one screwing the enemy, not him. The poor, clueless brute. God, I loved him. I wanted him there right then, to hold me in his arms and assure me that everything would be alright. I wanted to confess everything I'd done, and have him forgive me. He could be my man.

Really, maybe he could be.

* * *

An annoying buzzing sounded.

_What the hell is that noise? _

Knocking follows, then more buzzing, then silence.

A minute or so passes. More buzzing and a couple more knocks. My senses kick in. I spring out of bed and glance at my clock. It's nearly 2 in the afternoon. I'd certainly gotten plenty of rest.

"Dian, are you home?" I heard Bruce call through the door.

"Coming!" I quickly asserted, not bothering to get dressed, just scampering over to the door with my sheer gown on, no bra underneath and a mere pair of _Fruit of the Loom_ panties on.

I swung the door open to see Bruce standing there, looking a bit off by my sudden appearance, and holding a bouquet of roses in his right hand and wearing a blue blazer with a white shirt and jeans. Before he had the chance to even hand me my purse, I embraced him and planted a kiss on his cheek. I then grabbed his hand and led him inside.

"Dian, did you _just_ get up?" he asked with initial confusion, while I placed the beautiful flowers in a vase and headed into the kitchen to fill it with water.

"Mmhmm," I replied nonchalantly, while he took a seat on my couch. I filled up the vase halfway and placed it on the sill by my sink.

"Would you like anything, Bruce?" I called out to him.

"Eh, how about some water, please?"

I could contribute that. "Anything else? Some leftover pasta? Or a cookie? Or-"

"Nah, that's okay. I'm fine."

I brought him the water and sat down beside him. I pulled the loose strap of my nightgown up and yawned, unable to hold it in.

"Is this a bad time, Dian? I can see you again later if you aren't-"

"No! No, Bruce. I'm glad you're here, really. Thanks for popping over."

I combed my unkempt hair back with my fingers and met his eyes. "Look, about last night-"

"Don't worry about it, Bruce. You have nothing to be ashamed of," I cut in. He sighed and drew his eyes to the floor.

"I just feel that what I did was too … obscene. I didn't even think about what I was about to do, I just, _violated_ you. I forced myself on you. God, what the hell is wrong with me? I had no right to grab you and-"

I placed my hand on his cheek and turned his head to face me. I leaned in and pressed my lips into his. I had to show him how much his "obscene gesture" was appreciated. He groaned in slight protest, but I kept my lips on his.

I broke the kiss after a long and passionate minute dragged on. "I thought about what you said, and I think that we _can_ do this."

"Are you sure that this is what you wa-"

My lips went for his again and I positioned myself onto his lap. His hands wrapped around my back. Now, I was enjoying this. It wasn't forced, and I felt strongly for this man. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to move on and forget about the little escapade that I'd had with the Clown. That was over. Gone. No longer prevalent.

"Dian…" he mustered mid-kiss, needing to tell me something, but feeling reluctant on breaking our kiss off, as was I.

I began to straddle his lap and plant kisses on his neck. He groaned silently in approval. Finally, I could have _enjoyable_ sex … or so I thought.

That goddamn phone rang, shattering our affectionate course. I at first wanted to ignore it, but decided that I couldn't when the ringing went on for over a minute. It must have been imperative.

"Dian, maybe you should-"

"I'm on it," I gruffly sighed, rising up off of his toned legs and heading for the phone.

"Hello?"

"_*Sniff*_ Diana?"

It was Selina.

"Selina?"

"I, um, got into some trouble, a-and-"

"What happened?"

"Oh, it was nothing much, really. Just, you know, a little DUI and a-"

"Jesus, Selina! You're already in trouble with the law?!" Bruce grimaced and rested his head in his hands, realizing the severity of the situation.

"E-yeah, so I was wondering if ya could, well, bail me-"

"NO, you can forget it."

"PLEASE! You have to! I'll get eaten alive in jail! Haven't you heard those shower horror stories? I won't have a vagina left once I get out-"

"I'm not doing shit for you, Selina. You should have been more careful-"

"I'll do it," Bruce broke in with a heave of frustration. He stood and walked over to me. "Here, let me handle this."

"Bruce, you don't have to-"

The phone was out of my hand in seconds and held up to Bruce's right ear.

"...Selina?"

I heard ecstatic hollering on the other end. She knew who'd answered, and she was pleased beyond belief.

"Calm ... calm down, yes, yes. I'll do this, just this once, Selina... Selina, huh...yeah, I'll be there shortly...yeah…bye."

He hung up and sighed. I couldn't believe he'd just agreed to what he'd just agreed to. Did he not realize who this was? This bail would prove extremely pointless! She'd just misbehave again the next week and make another trip back to the MCU.

"Bruce, you need to consider what you're doing-"

"I know what I'm doing, Dian. Like I said, it's just this once-"

"Why are you doing this at all?! She's nothing but a manipulative bitch!"

"Dian," he rested his hands on my shoulders. "She wouldn't make it in there, trust me, I've seen her at her worst. I've seen the parts of her that you have not, nor will you ever."

"Bruce-"

He kissed my cheek and patted my shoulder, then left. I was feeling pissed amidst other things. Being her get-out-of-jail-practically-free-card after she'd deceited not only me, but him as well? What was wrong with him? Sure, he may have been filthy wealthy, but that didn't mean he should have dipped into his finances to break a felon such as herself out. That was Bruce though, a considerate and honorable gentleman chock-full of chivalry, not Batman, who would've declined to help the temptress right off the bat, no pun intended.

This would just be the beginning to her outrageous antics. She was a prowess brigand on the streets. I felt that she was far better off in prison, depressed or not. She'd've been protecting not only herself but the general public as well. Her wily ways only got her into exceedingly strifeful situations.

God help her.

But Bruce? I just wanted him to keep as far away from this low-living tramp as possible. It was too late, however. He'd already left. She was now not only going to be invading my life, but his as well.

She loved Bruce. I know she did, despite her turned back on him. Her typical boyfriend was generally abusive and overpowering, hence her adoration for Bruce. Bruce was a true gentleman, unlike her usual partners, who were quite the contrary for the most part.

I had never personally met any of them, thankfully, but she'd told me some horrendous stories back when we were … more reliable towards one another. When I trusted her. She, like the Clown Prince of Crime, had a few gnarly scars, though she hid them, while he flaunted them with a major sense of dignity.

Most were on her upper thighs and lower back. The worst had landed her in the hospital, them having come from one of ex's, Pimp John Paul Q. (Yeah, that was the name she'd given me). Anyway, he gave her quite the treatment, the nefarious asshole.

This occurred when she was around 21, if I recalled correctly.

I did feel somewhat remorseful for her sake, but she brought everything on herself, whether turmoil or satisfaction. She had to make amends, that was the only way she was ever going to save herself from harms way, and imminent death.

But at this point, the only thing she counted on … was Bruce.

* * *

I got dressed and hung out on the couch for awhile, just waiting to see if Bruce would call with news on both the potential bail he was _kindly_ doing for her and their confrontation.

It was fifteen past three. I was sure that Bruce was speaking with the authorities at this point, probably getting the payment for the bail out of the way.

Meanwhile, I was left time to contemplate, damn, did I do a lot of that those days. I had to do something about my frequent confrontations with the Clown. I would not be his bitch any longer. It had to end. But what could I do to stay out of his way? It seemed that every time I'd leave my apartment, I'd run into him, someway, somehow. I mean, him being at the restaurant the previous night was just too spontaneous. I couldn't tell Bruce. I'd have to tell him that I'd slept with him, and not once, but _twice_.

I had to settle this on my own. I had to make a decision that would result in both personal and public dissatisfaction.

I had to put away my costume, and put my heroic duties on hold. It was the only way. Keeping out of the spotlight would decrease my chances of running into the Joker, though I wasn't sure that Bruce would be too content with this decision. He'd of course wonder why I was holding off my crusading duties, and I sure as hell couldn't inform him that the Joker took part in my reason for hiding in the closet. I would just have to make an excuse… yes, a vindication.

Stress, that was what I was enduring, and far too much of it. It wasn't necessarily an exaggeration, for that was certainly a principle for my sake. I was distressed, very much so.

Would Bruce really care anyways? He would be fine on his own, for he was strong and resilient. He could handle himself, without the assistance of a feeble woman of 5'6 in a leotard at his side.

With that figuration, I got up off my ass and stuffed my suit away in my closet. **Deep**, in my closet.

I felt that I'd be free by doing so.

...So, I believed.


	21. As she was

_**As she was**_

"_You brought him into my life and now I want you to bring him back. Bring him back! I have never asked you for anything. I've never asked you for spells but do this. I know you can bring him back."_

_-"No dear. We wont do that."_

_-"We don't do that."_

"_But you can. You can do this. I know you can. I remember. I found it here when mommy and daddy died."_

_-"Even if we did bring him back, it wouldn't be Michael. It would be something else. Something dark and unnatural."_

"_I don't care what he comes back as! As long as he comes back. Please do this for me. PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE?"_

The phone rang, abruptly interrupting this intense and powerful scene of my favorite movie that I'd been watching, _Practical Magic_.

"U-um, Bruce?" I answered, feeling a tad uneasy.

"Huh, well, everything's all set…" He sounded exhausted and indignant.

"So, what happened?"

"Oh, Dian, It's a … long and complicated story-"

"So tell it."

"Eh, okay, um, the bill was nearly two grand, considering this was her second offense, or at least, the second time she's been _caught_, for I assume that she's driven drunk and high many times before … Although she made bail she's due in court this Thursday and I presume that she'll have to go on parole, maybe house arrest or community service… Don't even get me started on her behavior upon seeing me…"

I coughed and remained silent to imply that he _was_ going to tell me of her wily reaction to his appearance. He groaned in reluctance.

"I'd never seen a woman sprint so fast, Dian. Once they opened up her holding cell, she was in my arms in a blinding flash, squealing like a schoolgirl in the process…"

I couldn't hold back laughter. I knew she was still crazy about him. I couldn't wait to hear what he had to say about his reaction to her unseemly hijinks.

"She wouldn't release her grip on me all the way through the parking lot up until we reached the Benz. Then … she started with the kissing, and the obscure pet names ..._Brucey baby, Broods, Knight of Dark Satin, Batsy_-"

I slipped off the couch and doubled over in laughter. I felt for him. I did. For what he had to go through, but, but that was funny! She was a schoolgirl indeed, and a pathetic one at that.

"He, hm, *_Sniff_* I'm sorry, carry on."

"...She began stating her, _ahem_, IOU's...of course, they didn't involve a payment plan of money to perhaps give me to reciprocate for the bailout that I payed for her, but rather-"

"Sex?" I finished.

"Would you like the details?"

"Um, no, no, that's okay, I can kinda figure what she had in mind, anyways, _knowing_ her…"

"I denied her offer, and told her that she was off the hook with payback of, _any kind_. I said that she was fine. I had to declare one condition however, when she thought that she was coming home with me … she thought that we could be … well, together again, I had to make it clear that rekindling our affair was absolutely out of the question, and _damn_, did I really have to make myself clear. She was devastated when I dropped her off at her apartment. When I made it final, that we were not to see one another again, and that I was through with incorporating myself into her reprobated lifestyle. Though I must say that I did feel remorseful when she left, her final expression having signified a major sense of defeat. I know that feeling. It's debilitating."

"Bruce, you did the right thing."

"Did I? The last time I gave her some dissatisfying news she attempted suicide."

"She needs to learn how to fend for herself, and without resolving to self-harm whenever something doesn't go her way."

"I'm not certain that she _can_ help herself, Dian. The woman is … a mess."

She was indeed. Her mind was of high unkemptness and clutter. She needed a savior. That's really what she required.

"Yes, that's why _I'm_ going to help her." I'd startled Bruce, unshockingly. I'd went from wanting to completely expel her from my life to making plans to get deep into hers in order for her to seek safe haven and peace of mind. It was going to be a LONG road, though. Quite the distance.

"What? Dian, are you sure you want to-"

"I'm going to help her. Yes, I will. She needs a mentor, a guide. She's lost, and I'm going to be her source of light. I think in the end my efforts will prove worthwhile."

"How are you going to help her? She's unstable, Dian, and I doubt that _she_ even knows how to understand herself."

"I know, but I'll figure something out, Bruce. I will. Just wait."

Silence followed along with a few sighs implying the phrase "if you say so."

"Huh, right then, I have to go to a conference at the Enterprises, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, have fun."

"Pfft, watching paint dry on a wall is more entertaining that these things...well, goodbye."

I knew what I had to do now. I had to get to Selina's place, before she'd do anything drastic, if she hadn't already.

* * *

Did my stomach plummet in distaste once I'd heard that she was staying in an apartment in the Narrows. I'd made a personal vow never to return to that harrowing town upon departure, but now I _had_ to go back there.

I supposed that Selina and that town's culture varied little. They were one in a kind; alike in the sense of personality, both wicked at heart and reckless in demeanor. Selina was not afraid of ghettos or ganglands, she merely lived for them. She fit in, and became a part of the usual crowd, far unlike myself.

She'd told me that she was staying at the Oker Inn via phone the previous day before her apparent arrest. It was 4:38 in the afternoon, so I could presume that the Narrows' city danger meter wasn't too far off the charts.

I left my apartment with both a fresh pistol that Bruce had considerately given me and a full tin of mace. So if I did run into trouble then at least I'd be adequately prepared.

I got to her place fifteen minutes later. The parking lot was much fuller than the lots I'd been on the previous night, probably because it was still daytime, hence lack of gang activity.

I sighed and prepared myself for the strenuous situation to come. I silently prayed that she wouldn't be unconscious or dead on the floor with a pool of blood surrounding her wrists. It was a gruesome yet realistic vision.

I stepped out and headed inside, my heart palpitating at the tenseness I was enduring. The inside appeared to be not too shabby, just a few tears in the old satin curtains by the entryway and audible creaks in a few of the chairs some of the residents were seated in.

I walked up to the receptionist and asked for my troubled friend's room number. She was middle-aged, strands of gray evident all around her tightly bunned hair and wrinkles furrowed intensely on her forehead, stress also having been evident.

"Third floor, room 214," she monotonously grumbled. I silently thanked her and headed for the elevator … that was _out of order_, of course.

I went for the stairs, having passed just a few people on the way up, all having appeared to be poverty stricken with the holes in their clothes and the unkempt hair. I scolded my too keen judgment.

I warily approached her room, briefly neglecting to knock, and maybe just leave while I had the chance. No. I had to do this. She deserved a second chance. I could help her make amends. I could assist in teaching, well, right from wrong, I guessed. Since apparently she didn't know the difference in the first place, either that or she just chose to do the things she did merely because it was her prerogative. Her true intention. Her ambition.

I knocked twice.

No answer.

I knocked again, this time with more curtness and force. "Selina?" I called.

I pressed my ear against the door, and heard acute sniffling seconds later. I tried the doorknob, with no avail. I knocked again, now louder and more agile.

"Selina, let me in," I hollered, knowing she was moping just feet from the door.

"Go away!" she retorted.

"Just let me inside, Selina. I can help you."

"No, just get the hell outta here! NOW!"

"I'm not leaving. I'm here to help you. If I leave now it's only a matter of time before your hands will be in cuffs again, and Bruce will not help you the next time-"

I heard curt stomping and the door was suddenly swung open. Of course, I'd mentioned _Bruce_. She lusted over the man.

"_Get in here, then_," she screeched through bared teeth. I stepped into the room composed of used tissues and clothes spread carelessly all around, including a few pairs of inside-out thongs.

She was smoking at the time, a lit cigarette was perched between her shaking lips. Her mascara was running down her cheek from the flow of fresh tears. God, what the hell did Bruce say to her?

She was wearing not much more than a thin bathrobe, well actually, no more than that. She had far too much cleavage out to have been even wearing a bra. A few loose strands of her dark curls hung in tendrils around her forehead from her loose bun. The red nail polish on her revealed toes was chipping away, and she looked sickly.

She stormed past me and threw herself onto the couch, her small figure bouncing lightly in response. She continued to whimper, her lit smoke still held between two fingers.

"Tell that prick to fuck off for me, will ya?" she asked, her face pressed down into the seat of her tan couch.

She clearly didn't quite comprehend what she had just said, at least, I'd hoped that was the case.

"What?! Selina, he just broke you out of jail! He's paying for everything, you ingrate! You should be thankful! If anything, you need to thank the man!"

"I tried to! He just shoved me away and told me to stay out of his _precious _life!"

I scoffed. "Um, well yeah, Selina, you can't just offer the guy a blowjob then call it even. Frankly, he's just as tired of your ridiculousness as I am."

She sprung upwards in a fit of infuriation. "Then get out. I don't want you in my life if you're just gonna judge me, and not accept the things I do."

"I'm here to _save_ you! You have to stop acting like a careless mouth breather and get your priorities in line!"

She stood up and strided my way. "My _pri-or-ities_ are in line! This is me, Dian! Get used to it!"

"God, Selina, is this really what you want?"

She didn't reply right away. She frowned and drew her hazel eyes to the ceiling. "...Well…"

"To be a stripper? Is that, or has that been your ideal career all along? Or what about the prostitution? Huh? What about that?"

"_Stop it._"

"No, _you_ need to stop. You need to put an immediate cessation to all of this. If you don't, then you're going to be six-feet under in a matter of time. A short amount, actually."

"FUCK YOU!"

"That, that right there. We'll start with the obvious animosity. Just take a deep breath and-"

"I don't need a goddamn _therapist_. I can handle myself."

A therapist. Maybe that's what she needed. Wait, then again I doubted that she'd've been able to _afford_ one. I'd have to do, for then.

"Maybe not, but don't you need … a friend?"

I'd gotten her. I made her realize what she really did need. Bruce would have nothing of her, and neither would anyone else.

She let go of her dying cigarette and carelessly crushed it into the floor with her bare right foot.

"...Bitch."

She plopped back down into her sofa and crossed her legs, while I stared at the small pile of ash that was crushed into her white carpet in befuddlement.

She sloppily patted the seat aside her, initiating an invite to sit beside her. I slowly made my way to her couch and warily sat down. Its comfort proved promising, but her next statement didn't so much.

"It's quite the picture. You and I, bff's again, just like the old days. No betrayal. No traiting. No hurt. No pain. Just fun and never ending nonchalance. Yup, sounds like fun. I want that … Hey, I have an idea. This weekend, I want you to come with me to, the mall. Yeah, Macy's. We'll have fun."

"Em…"

"C'mon! I thought you wanted to help me … be normal. And that is normal."

"Well, fine, alright then."

"Kay. It's a date." She picked up the box of Marlboros' and lit up a fresh one, to my discouragement.

"Why don't you start by putting a halt to your smoking."

She scowled. "Pfft. Please, honey. I _need_ these."

Whatever floated her wrecked boat, I guess.

"So, did you get that job at um,"

"Carnal? Yup. I work Mondays, Wednesdays and the weekends. It's kinda fun, actually."

"Oh, okay… so, what do you do in there?" I probably could've guessed myself.

"Just what you'd think. I strip. I tease. I give lap dances, and _occasionally_ I-"

"OKAY!" I had to break in. I knew what was coming. I didn't want to hear it. The respect I did have for her was limited enough as it was.

She chuckled and inhaled her cigarette. "It's worth it all. Make fifteen an hour, plus the cash that the horny bastards shove down my thongs and top. So, before you ask, no, I don't regret it."

I didn't think she did.

This was going to be more difficult than I'd thought.


	22. Vigilante at rest

_**Vigilante at rest**_

I had left Selina's place at 6, after giving her some pointless pointers that she was bound to decline, and having heard her own rants, whether the downfalls of her job as an erotic dancer or her big lustful crush on Bruce. Ugh. I was just glad to get out of there. I'd be seeing her again that following Saturday...I'd make sure to brace myself and bring plenty of Tylenol…

Once I was back at my apartment, I had decided to give Bruce a call, not to invite him over, since I was both too worn out for any potential sex, and I wasn't certain that either of us really needed that just yet, for our relationship had just _barely_ re-sprouted from what it was five years prior.

I was going to tell him that Selina was, okay, well, not _okay_, but...alive? Adequate, I guess. Her mind was quite the stigh, and reparation was going to be tremulous, as I'd foreshadowed. I was certain that Bruce wouldn't be too stunned with what I had to say, anyway.

"Hey, I just wanted to let ya know that she's … getting by."

"What did she say?" he asked, as I briefly considered exaggerating her statements on her beloved. I decided to be honest, for any deceit amongst the three of us would only result in even more havoc.

"Well, she was pissed. She, didn't hesitate to, eh, put forth her honest opinions on you…"

"Huh, just tell me," Bruce sighed.

"She told me to tell you to, quote, "fuck off," and she remarked that you are a prick...So, Typical, correct?"

"Precisely...well, as long as her wrists remain free of self-inflicted nicks then I'd say that all is good, for now. Thank you for doing this, Dian. She could really use the extra support."

"Yes, she needs it, alright. Oh! How did the meeting go?"

"Pff, boring as hell, just as expected… Nothing but company goals and marketing plans for next year. Fell asleep halfway through the damn thing...Now, the only thing I'm interested in is-"

_Finding the Clown? _my thoughts interrupted, then were taken aback by his actual statement.

"-taking you out on a decent date."

"What? Bruce, really?" I was excited, yet I responded half-heartedly due to my fear that he was just being sarcastic. No, he was legitimate.

"Yes, I mean, since you've confided that you want _this_ again…"

"Oh, YES! Ha, yes, Bruce! This Friday, perhaps?" God, I was exhilarated.

"Sure, let's make it happen...I'll talk to ya later; Gordon's got this wild idea that some goons are hanging around the eastern proximity of the city, and they may be the one's who got away after the Blackgate robbing last week. Well, wish me luck."

I smiled weakly. "Good luck, Bruce."

My mind was at peace. Bruce and I were together again, Selina was on the road to recovery, and the Joker was out of the picture, _for then_.

* * *

Work was a challenge for those next few days. Bruce had little to tell me, considering the Clown was back in hiding, or actually, he'd been hiding from Bruce all along, but at least I knew where he was some of the time, but with the knowledge came consequences. Horrible consequences.

Bruce had told me to perhaps exaggerate the happenings a tad. To maybe let the public know that things are under control. They kind of already were, but Bruce had his doubts. He knew in his heart that people were going to die again, just like the last time, and maybe he couldn't prevent it, also like the last time.

The thing about the Joker was that when he had made his threats, he'd always act out on them. So really, danger was imminent and inevitable.

I was more relaxed to be off the streets. Yes, I was actually happy that I was putting my vigilante duties on hiatus. It was for the best, and Bruce could handle himself just fine.

Though I hadn't actually told him of this news yet...but I was sure he'd be understanding.

Oh, he was understanding, but I can't say that he wasn't suspicious.

…

"Well, this is a _sudden_ decision. What exactly brought it on?" he asked me. It was Thursday night, and we were at his home: The Wayne Manor, as he called it, as did the general public.

We were seated in his ridiculously large and eloquent living room by the considerably large fireplace and 60 inch plasma screen. I was seated in his luxurious couch. He was seated across from me in an old fashioned arm chair, and a very uppity one at that.

His butler/guardian Alfred Pennyworth, was in and out of the room on occasion offering us samples of various treats and goodies that he'd prepared, Bruce declining every one, and leaving me to look like a pig.

"I'm just… a bit stressed out is all. I mean, this isn't really a problem is it? Should I be continueing the vigilante work?"

His face went stoic and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He clasped his hands together and really took his time when answering me.

"...No, no, it's fine. If you're uncomfortable with carrying on with heroic work then-"

"I'm not quitting _for good_, Bruce. I'm just taking a little break is all. It wasn't like I was of much help anyways, though."

"Don't say that, Dian. You make an amazing hero. Why, I'd be useless without you."

I couldn't hold back a scoff at that one. "Please, Bruce. You're just fine, if not better off without me. I'm weak, I'm a klutz, I'm cowardly-"

"It's not your weaknesses that make you a hero, Dian. It's your strengths. It's all about what you're willing to do for this city. It's sacrifice and a need to fight for the greater good. I've seen you. You're not a hero for your inability to take down a few bad guys. You're one because of your determination to bring out the rapport in this damned city." He stood and sat beside me, wrapping his arm around me before finishing his heartfelt statement. "You are courageous. Just know that."

He planted a kiss on my tomato-red cheek. He was so sweet, though I hadn't really agreed with anything that he'd said to me. I relaxed into his arm and rested my head on his shoulder.

At that moment, I wanted to tell him of all the sick things I'd done since the previous week. I wanted to confide to him the explicit details of my discontentful escapade with our top enemy.

He had me all wrong. He thought I was good. I was not. I was vile and wrongly did.

Would he understand if I told him? No, I couldn't risk it. This was too perfect. Being there with him, resting at his side, feeling his nose nudge against my hairline and his hand rest against my right shoulder. It was pure comfort. Pure serenity. Pure tranquility. I couldn't ruin the peace. I wouldn't ruin the peace. I would just keep these wound up, nasty secrets to myself. I had to keep one thing in mind.

I was not courageous. Not at all.

* * *

A/N- It's brief, I know, but I'll make the next one more lengthy. I've got a big plot twist coming soon, so I'm just posting bit by bit before the big climax :)

Thanks for following the story, it really is appreciated.

~Salutes, -DS


	23. Haunting me

_***Sexual content ahead***_

_**Have a Happy New Year! :)**_

* * *

_**Haunting me **_

Bruce and I went to a fancy restaurant in the busiest part of the city. It was called Fresca, and I had my assumptions that it would be even more classy than the last place we went to. Bruce had left his phone back at his place, so disruptions wouldn't be possible, much to my liking. He was finally willing to allow some conventional recreation into his life, and so was I. If the only way to avoid the war paint wearing son of a bitch was to put off my Wonder duties for a while, then so be it. I was ready to carry on with Bruce.

I was prepped up like I was going to pay the President a visit. I was flaunting my favorite red dress with heels (not too tall though, for I'm not Selina Kyle). I wore my hair down, for I never fancied buns or bobby pins for a reason I can't quite fathom, perhaps I just favored sporting it down for a reason of better appeal. I could have asked Bruce what he thought, but, being a man, and a _gentle_man at that, he likely would have told me that I looked great no matter my hair's state, which really wouldn't have been of too much help.

No matter. I was feeling gratuitous for the first time in a long time. I was going on an actual date with a man that I loved. Not a forced mission of homicide with the clown terrorist, or a lewd slumber party to follow. Nope. Just a nice, pleasant and tranquil night out with my man.

Bruce was also dressed to perfection, not shockingly. He was wearing a dark suit, well, a tux really, with a dark blue tie. His brunet hair was tidily combed back. He looked ready to host one of his many fundraisers. Fit to impress even the snootiest of Republicans. (I was a Democrat, thank you).

"Oh, Bruce, this place looks expensive," I mumbled upon entrance. It was not only much larger than your average Olive Garden, but it had a formal dress code. Meaning, sweatpants and a Tee wouldn't have covered it. The walls were compiled of many paintings, most appearing to be of high profile and popularity, maybe some were fresh from the local museum.

Bruce smugly replied, "it is."

"Well, we don't _have to_ do this, then, I mean if it's too much-"

"Dian, who's the billionaire here? Don't worry, I've got this covered." I laughed along with him at that statement. Sometimes I forgot that he was even rich, for he was so far from being haughty, like your average wealthy individual.

"If you say so," I complied with a chuckle. His arm went around my side as we stood in the long line in the entryway. I felt at ease, even liberated. I had finally escaped the Clown. He had no idea of where the hell I was, nor where I lived. There was no chance of running into him if I wasn't scampering around in my heroic attire, was there? No, I doubted it, but I still kept a wary eye out nonetheless.

Bruce and I got a booth in the far back of the place. He'd normally preferred dining in the more secluded parts of restaurants. That was probably the Batman prerogative.

Once we were seated, I decided to tease Bruce about our sham of the date we'd previously had.

"I hope you're not as peckish tonight as you were last week," I teased, to receive a grin and a shake of his head in return.

"I think I'll go for a more elaborate appetizer this time, sweetheart." I smiled at being called a 'sweetheart' by the man I'd been infatuated with, but I couldn't hold back a twinge of nausea at the recollection of the other not-so-loving man who'd also called me that on a frequent basis.

No! No, I wasn't going to let my thoughts trace back to _him_. This was Bruce Wayne. Batman, a hero and man of integrity. Not … the knave. The freak at heart. The cynical loon…

Enough.

"Good. I hope so," I replied, then began to look through the menu. The Alfredo pasta dish with garlic bread caught my eye. I was set, but was Bruce?

He set his menu down after glancing through the first panel for a mere five seconds. "The House burger looks promising. Perhaps some wine along with it…"

"I see improvement," I stated, proud that he wasn't willing to rush things like he did the last time we did this. It would be a patient evening.

The waiter, who looked pure French and chock-full of snoot, showed up momentarily and went off with our orders, setting down a snack of bread and olive oil in the process. God, what class!

We got our dinners ten minutes later. Bruce and I had spoken little during the feast. I figured that we were just saving chitchat for later. Despite the lack of conversation, the night was splendid. Just being in his vicinity was enlightening. I could never take these moments for granted.

"You up for desert?" he asked once we were through with our meals. My dress was already feeling a little snug, so I gave him the answer an overly cautious anorexic would give him.

"No, I don't want to get fat…" He scoffed, as expected.

"Fat? Don't be ridiculous, Dian. You're a model."

"Oh, stop it you," I remarked along with a ditsy chuckle. The wine I'd been sharing with Bruce must have really hit my system.

"...I suppose a _small _slice of cheese cake wouldn't hurt."

"That's the spirit."

…

We departed the place with his arm crooked around me. We'd both had our share of alcohol. I couldn't help but constantly expect that damn phone of his to go off, as an indication that he needs to take off and join Jim and the guys for a wasted attempt to find the Clown Prince. I had to keep reminding myself that Bruce had thankfully left his phone back at his place, where we were headed.

Once at his manor, we settled down on his couch with no source of light but a few lit candles on the coffee table. We had a fresh bottle of chardonnay, no glasses, just free loaded gulps straight from the bottle.

We were snuggling like any couple would on his ridiculously comfortable couch. I felt like I was sinking further and further into the thing the more inebriated I got.

We seemed to be just giggling and enjoying one another's presence for a while. I didn't fret in the slightest … until he began planting hard kisses to my neck. My heart rate palpated and I was suddenly uneasy. Why? I don't really know.

"Bruce…" I shyly mumbled. He continued his gesture. His hands traveled down my waist, grasped firmly, then slung me over onto his lap, like in his car days prior.

His mouth continued to trace along my neck in libidinous hunger. His hands were firmly pressed behind my back, holding me securely in place. It wasn't too long later when he ripped open the back of my dress, his fingers lacing underneath the seams of my strapless bra. We were really going to do it? Was I going to let him?

"Bruce…"

"Shh, it's okay, Dian. I have condoms."

Oh, so he prepared for this…

He pulled down the upper half of my dress and let it rest at my waist. I knew I had to start contributing sooner or later. I began undoing his buttoned up blazer, having it off in a matter of seconds, probably 20 to be exact. Then I went for his white shirt, while he undid my bra while continuing to trace his lips along my neck, then onto my earlobe.

My cheeks had inevitably blushed as my bare breasts were presented to him. He hadn't caught a glimpse of them for over five years. I suppose the hardness I'd felt under me was all too necessary. His hands slowly went over them, then pressed, his palms getting a gentle feel of my nipples. He was so painstakingly gentle, far unlike the Joker, who'd've thrashed his rough hands onto them in a greedy fashion, having no sense of patience whatsoever.

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him full on the lips. His fingers massaged my breasts, his thumbs paying particular attention to the teats. So romantic, unlike - no, I had to stop that ponder. This is BRUCE. I had to keep my focus on him and him only.

He laid me down and went atop me promptly. As he slid my dress completely off, a horrific realization struck me.

"Bruce! Wh-what about Alfred?!" God, the mortification I'd endure if he were to suddenly waltz in with a tray of scones in hand, catching us right in the act. I'd never be able to return there. Bruce responded with a light chuckle.

"He's off on holiday in the UK. He won't be bothering us, sweetie." I sighed in relief, the image of a metal tray crashing to the floor and a hollered "oh my!" coming from an elderly English man having faded.

This was it. I was glad that I'd decided to wear my more sexy laced underwear over my usual _Fruit of the Loom_'s. Bruce seemed satisfied himself in my choice in panties, but that didn't mean that he took his time when removing them, for he did that quickly.

I was stark and bare beneath him. He was only half-way undressed. I'd had to put forth my sensual efforts yet again. I had almost no difficulty in undoing his fly, unlike - NO… I got his pants down in a jiff, much to my relief. Now for his more intimate coverage. I peeled his black boxers down with erotic resolute. Well, they were off, and I'd gotten a lucid eyeful of his manhood, which really hadn't changed much, if at all, from when we were intimate with one another those years earlier.

He didn't hesitate to work himself inside of me, but not before of course placing a condom onto his lower area, unlike- **!**

I could free fully make noises to comply my pleasure. No reluctance. No shame. No fear or disgust. I loved this man. He loved me, as I had found out for sure when he finished.

He panted into my neck while remaining on me. I combed my fingers daintily through his dark tresses and felt consumed with bliss and illumination.

"I love you, Diana," he whispered into my ear.

I kissed his cheek and returned the statement. This was what serenity was. I wanted to laugh out loud and cheer triumphantly at my newfound liberation. I kept silent, and valued our solitude.

Hours must have went by when I heard a phone ringing off in the distance. Was it morning already? I glanced at the small clock on his coffee table. It was 3:46am. Who the hell was calling this early?

"Ugh, Jesus…" Bruce grumbled, then stood up weakly. He put on his boxers and trotted across the large room to answer the obnoxious ringing that continued to sound. I remained lying on his couch, his large white dress shirt was the only thing covering me. I was slightly chilly at this point. This room was fairly drafty, the AC blowing out various vents throughout the room, making the room around 65 degrees as a whole. This was quite refreshing though when coming in from outdoors where the temperatures were currently lying between 80-90 degrees. It was the middle of July after all.

I couldn't make out what Bruce was saying, for I was both too groggy from just awakening and the fact that he was about forty feet off in the distance. He returned by my side a couple minutes later. He didn't appear too happy.

"Well, that was Gordon….I've gotta go."

"What?! Bruce, it's not even _four _in the morning!"

"He claims it's imperative. They'd received a call from an 'anonymous source' claiming to know where the Joker's new hideout is...I doubt it's legitimate, Dian, but Gordon is requiring me to-"

"Did you retaliate? Why does he _need_ you for this?"

He sat down beside me and gathered his inside-out pants. "You've got to remember that I'm _Batman_, Dian. I've got to do all I can to protect this city."

He stood and walked off, departing the room. I was frustrated to say the least. I got my underwear back on and wrapped his shirt around my chest. I followed him upstairs while continuing to argue in the process. A part of me realized that it was no use, he _had_ to go, but I still pressed on.

"Bruce...just, consider maybe-"

"I'm going, Dian. I'm sorry." He strided into his storage room where his 'Bat suit' was located. He began put on his dark armor while I had never been more pissed at Jim. He always had to interrupt Bruce's life for things like this, and it would only prove to be waste his time.

"You know there's not going to be anything there…" I mumbled matter-of-factly.

"You're probably right," he returned while getting his mask adjusted onto his head. God, I had to admit that he looked stunning in that suit. I felt extremely fortunate to have been dating the man. If my female colleagues would have known they'd've hated my guts in utmost jealousy.

The Dark Knight strided out of the room cloaked in armor and a sense of propriety. This wasn't Bruce anymore; it was Batman.

I chased him down the stairs, pointlessly. He'd be out the door in less than a minute. I buttoned up his shirt that hung loosely on me as he approached his front door.

"Wait, Bruce-"

"I'll see you later on, okay? You're welcome to stay here and make yourself at home. Don't you think that I _want_ to do this, Dian. It is bullshit, but I must-"

"I understand...go on."

He wrapped his armored arms around me and placed his lips on mine one last time before marching out.

Disappointment enveloped me like a straight A student finding out that they didn't get accepted to Harvard. I grudgingly dawdled back into the living room to gather my clothes and take off. I didn't want to stay there alone in that dark and empty house. It was too desolating. I figured it'd be best for me to go back to my apartment… what was the use in hanging around? I knew that he wouldn't be returning anytime soon, anyway.

I was left with my discouraged thoughts on the way home. I was looking forward to a nice and romantic shower with him that morning, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling my airways while emanating off a candle wick on the ledge of the tub, the two of us reenacting that rainfall scene in _The Notebook_, a movie I was sure that he'd never even seen, let alone heard of. Then perhaps a nice breakfast out somewhere since his amazing cook of a butler was out of the country. Just to be with him a bit longer. That's what I wanted.

* * *

My alarm clock was no longer my wake-up call. The phone was. I groggily turned over in my bed and squinted at the caller ID. _Oker Apts…_

Huh, shit. I decided to go ahead and answer it, though she was the last person who I really wanted to speak with, aside from you-know-who.

"Yes?"

" *enigmatic giggles* Heyyy...I'll be there in twenty, kay?"

I'd forgotten. I was due for a 'date' with Selina at the mall. Of course I wasn't too up for it, but I'd made a promise, and I was going to follow through with it.

"Well, oh - fine, see you then." I hung up. At least she actually _called_. That was shocking behavior for her. She was never one for manners. I groggily pushed myself out of bed and headed for my closet. What to wear? I supposed my old black skirt and a tank would do. It was said to be around 80 that day.

I tossed the sheer clothing onto the bed and headed for the shower. Water flowing steamy down my figure, I recalled Bruce's touch. I began to inadvertently differentiate his from _his_. It didn't matter how many times I'd vowed never to let my thoughts trace back to that bastard, they always did.

He was haunting me. There was nothing I could about it.

…

At least the ghost could let up for at least some time. I was off on an unpreferable spree with the Cat. Then again, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Hell, perhaps it'd even enhance our shaky relationship a bit, you know, allow me to trust her a bit more.

Well, as I could hypothesize, she had gathered up the store's stuttiest attire. Everything from the six inch stilettos to G strings, or regular thongs if she found a dinky enough pair. She also had fun in _Sephora _throwing every perfume brand in the shop on the check-out counter, paying for everything with the thick bundle of cash that she'd 'earned' from Carnal...self-respect: she needed it.

I had just picked out some new blazers for work and a few fancy pencil skirts, much to Selina's scoffing. Yes, it was established that we had very different tastes in fashion, and really everything else as a whole.

Upon exit, she decided to yack on yet again about her "beloved Bat." Little did she realize that he was now _mine_. I had to confide this to her, only to my later regret.

"Selina, I just wanted to let you know that I'm actually _dating_ Bruce...so-"

"WHAT?!" she screeched, startling me quite a bit with her fierceness. She'd dropped her bags in a fit of rage. I was almost panicking.

"Selina-"

"Oh, you BITCH! How dare you _steal _my man!"

"Steal? Selina you had your chance with him. He's not your man anym-"

She swiped a rapid palm across my left cheek. It stung like nothing else, I mean, it _really_ smarted. Tears pooled in my eyes and I felt warmness streaming down my cheek. Christ, the spastic bitch had _clawed _at me.

"Dear God-"

"I-I can't believe you! I thought you were a friend!"

"Listen you confused ignoramus-"

"So, did ya two _fuck_ yet?!" she stammered cruelly. How would I answer that?

"Selina-"

"DID YA?"

"He has the right to date other women, Sel-"

"Answer me, dammit…" She was drawing a crowd. People were entertained by our ludicrous feud.

"I have had sex with-"

"_Have_ had? You mean you banged my guy more than once?!"

Holy shit…

"Fuck it," I broke in. "Go ahead and believe whatever you like then. I wanted to help you, but if you're going to behave like a jealous teen girl who forgot to take her Bipolar meds then I'm through-"

She growled similar to that of a tigress. She was really taking this badly. I'd've never dreamed that she would be _that_ upset with me over the news of Bruce's and my relationship. This was preposterous.

Just when I was about to brace myself for the pounce of a lifetime, she waved her arm in the air to dismiss the potential altercation.

"Screw it. I'll just _go_," she grumbled through gritted teeth. She gathered her bags and stormed for her car, having plans of leaving me behind, of course.

"Wait, Selina!" I rushed her way, but she was off the lot in a short matter of time.

I was left alone on the lot, four heavy bags of clothes in hands and five likely gnarly bleeding scrapes across my cheek. I was at loss yet again, for not only was the Joker haunting me…

...but bad luck was as well.


	24. Broken

*Somewhat graphic non-con and language*

* * *

_**Broken**_

I waited on a bench outside Macy's for Bruce to come and pick me up. He luckily managed to get out of work to do so. Bruce was right all along. Selina was just far too dramatic and Bipolar to deal with. She was simply too much of a nuisance who lived for dramatizing everything. I guess she would have to fend for herself. That was all there was to it.

Bruce showed up twenty minutes later in his nifty black Benz. I gathered my luggage and threw the bags into the back seat, then made myself comfortable in the front. Bruce's facial expression went from sympathetic to a shocked grimace. He'd noticed the mark the Cat had left on me.

"Yeah, she didn't take the news of our relationship too well…" I flipped open the mirror above me to check out the extent of damage. The scrapes were indeed gnarly. She had really done well in swiping her razorous nails across my cheek with precision. My cheek was flushed red with four long cuts and one small one, all still bleeding a bit.

"Shit, Dian."

"What can I say? She's a flaky lunatic."

"Why did you tell her that we're together?"

"She wouldn't stop going on and on about _you_! I had to say something!"

He groaned in frustration. "...Christ…"

I decided to try and change the subject. "So, did you find anything useful?"

"Nope. The place was filled with homeless people. There were no traces of weaponry or any other evidence that the Joker had ever even been in the damn place. It was a small shack downtown near a cul de sac…"

"Oh."

"I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he did take off. You know, to wander out and terrorize another city, and if that's the case then we'll be hearing about his chaotic upshots soon enough… At least _I_ won't have anything more to do with him. This city is my concern, and _this city_ only."

Silence settled in. I had a good chance to confess what I knew of the Clown, minus detail on his dick size and favorite position. I should have blurted out that I had seen the Joker just a couple days earlier, from a few unfortunate run-ins and sexual encounters. I strongly believed that he was certainly still in Gotham. Why would he have left? He did tell me that he wasn't through with me. He'd told me that I was his, whether I wanted to be or not, and my regards remain the same:

NOT.

I figured it best to not mention anything to Bruce. I had no idea where he was. I doubted that apartment room that we were in a few nights earlier in the Narrows was his usual residence. He was too clever for that. He knew that I detested him, and he knew that I was close with Batman, so he'd've figured that I was going to tell Bruce that that was where_ he_ was staying, right? I was just going to assume that. It was likely only a matter of time before he would put himself out there again anyways.

…

Bruce followed me inside, since he was through with his inefficient crusading duties, _for then_, at least.

I kept a wary ear out for that phone that was bound to go off at any given time; its spontaneity being a major nuisance lately.

I washed my face in the bathroom and applied some ointment to the scrapes. They weren't visually horrendous, but they did stand out. I just hoped that no one would be questioning me about them when I'd return to work that Monday. How would I answer them? _Oh, it was just my mentally unstable bimbo of a friend who dug her long and incisive nails into my cheek for dating a man who she's obsessed with who doesn't return a single thought of admiration back her way._

Yes, it sure came with a price, being 'friends' with Catwoman. Though despite her violent tendencies I couldn't hold down feelings of empathy for her sake. I still felt sorry for her. I probably shouldn't have, but I did. She was so lost. At this point I doubted that she would let me back into her life. She was fucking **pissed **at me. Bad. She just couldn't accept the fact that Bruce had moved on. Maybe she didn't even think it was possible.

I came out of the bathroom patting a washcloth on my wounds. Bruce shot me looks of pure sorrow while he sat on the edge of my bed. I sat beside him, his arm wrapping around me once seated.

"How long do you think it'll take to clear up?"

He shrugged. "It will probably begin to fade in a few days, but it will take a week or two to disappear entirely."

"Ugh. That psychotic bitch…" I held the damp cloth against my throbbing cheek. I was just thankful that my man was by my side, helping me cope after having to deal with the cougar.

"Don't let a few scratches ruin your state of mind. They haven't fractured your complexion by any means. You're still beautiful, Dian."

Slightly cheesy, but sweet as could be. "You're a sweetheart, Bruce."

I kissed him on the cheek. Bruce's eyes seemed to wander over to my closet.

"When do you think you'll be ready to put your suit back on?" he asked, out of pure curiosity rather than a persistent want for me to continue my duties.

I had to be honest. "I don't know."

* * *

A month dragged on.

I was still safe. I had stayed away from my vigilante duties and abstained from going out in public too often as a whole. Just work, Bruce's manor and a few grocery stores. Anything to keep away from the Joker. At least Bruce didn't suspect anything askew. He just figured that I was indeed stressed out and too busy for patrolling the streets on a daily basis. And as for Selina, I hadn't heard a thing from her since that onslaught at Macy's the month prior.

I must admit that life was kind of lacking its perks for me at the time. I felt trapped, like I couldn't leave my place whenever I wanted to. It was like I _had_ to hide from him. He was certain to find me if I so much as stood under the sky in Gotham's nightfall. I feared that he'd find me. Someway. Somehow.

One night I returned back to my apartment a bit later than usual. It must have been around 8:30 or so. We had another tedious meeting at the Gazette, and then there was a traffic jam on the way home, just some drunk driving incident on the freeway as it had turned out.

Once I'd gotten inside, I'd felt that something was wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and goosebumps sprung up on my arms. I felt slightly nauseated. I sensed that someone was watching me. How could that be? I was being silly. I was the only one in there. I had to be. Bruce was working a late shift that night at the Enterprises, and Selina had some nasty beef against me at the time, so I shrugged off her potential presence, hence the possibility of anyone being in my apartment at all. I was just paranoid.

I glanced carefully around my living room, just to make sure that everything was in place, unmoved and where it was supposed to be. It seemed to be. I sighed and scolded myself for being so anxious.

All was fine.

I headed for my bathroom to shower since I hadn't the time to that morning since my alarm clock had burned out and I was nearly late for work because of it. I had luckily awoken naturally by the ringing of the phone, it being Bruce wishing me a nice day at work, as he usually did at 8:10, then being stricken with horror at the realization that it was that time and I was still in bed with my tee and panties on. With that said, I knew it was time to replace my alarm, since that one was over ten years old anyway.

I needed a nice relaxing shower to ease my semi fried nerves anyways. Then again, I figured a soothing bath to be more fit for my stressed out condition. I began filling the tub with balmy water and I had stripped down to my undergarments - before hearing a loud bang emanate from the kitchen. I almost screamed in absolute terror, luckily not sounding much more than a gasp. I turned the water off and fiercely put my robe on. What was I going to do? Staying put in my bathroom wouldn't have done much good. Sure, I could lock the door, but the perpetrator would presumably just break the door down anyways, if they were determined enough to get in to get me, which chances were they would be.

My pistol was in the bottom drawer of my nightstand. I'd have to get it if I wanted to remain safe, or at least _alive_. But I was so afraid to leave the bathroom. I felt paralyzed in traumatization. Maybe I'd just imagined the noise, yeah, perhaps it was nothing but my overly nerve wracked state conjuring up an auditory hallucination...but I couldn't be too sure. I had to check and see if that was the case, because I was having strong doubts that it was not. It was just too good to be true.

I tied the sashes of my robe together in a tight knot and peered my head out of my bathroom, the door having already been open, for had it not been I'd've doubted that I would've had the courage to open it. No one was in my room. I took a deep breath in and slowly stepped out of the bathroom, being sure to tiptoe all the way to my dresser where my only decent weapon was. The carpet of my bedroom proved useful for its provided softness hence my steps not making any noise. I kept my eyes glued to the doorway the entire short walkway across my room up to the drawer. I'd gotten my gun out, and turned the safety off.

What to do now? Stay put there in my bedroom whilst keeping a steady aim at the doorway, ready to shoot the intruder down upon entrance or was I to leave my room and seek out the trespasser?

Wait. First things first I was to call Bruce. I knew he'd come right over with the news I had to tell him. I slowly picked up the receiver and dialed away. I panted heavily into the phone while praying for Bruce to hurry up and answer.

I must have been so worked up that I hadn't realized the silence on the other line. The dead silence. Dear God no, it couldn't be. I horrifying glanced down at the wiring connected to the wall and traced my eyes along the cord - to see that it had been cut off. Yes, I had an old school phone, unfortunately… My cell phone was in the living room. I was fucked.

I had no choice but to go out into the living room and seek out the person who was invading my home.

I tentatively made my way out of my room and into the living room. I saw no one. My lights were on in here, but not in the kitchen. My knees were weak with agitation and my heart thrust like never before. This was the most tense moment of my life. Knowing there was some stranger wandering about in my small apartment and not knowing where the hell he or she was. I was assuming this was a man, however. By clichéd instinct. I didn't want to assume that the intruder was, who I had briefly assumed it was. Not like there was any way _he_ could have known where I resided anyway, right?

Should I shout out? Call out the freak and tell them I was armed and ready? I wasn't brave enough to do that. I kept silent. I continued to pace towards the kitchen. I closed my eyes in spite of overwhelming angst and flipped the light switch on. I expected to hear a voice holler out in protest or at least signification of letting me know that I'd caught them. I heard nothing. I slowly opened my eyes to stare at an empty kitchen.

There was the laundry room and the closet left to check. That was it. Then there was the heavenly possibility that this person had already left, having taken whatever was apparently there before with them and being on their way, just leaving me to find out exactly what was missing.

I departed the kitchen, pistol still held shakingly in my hand. God, the tension was killing me. I would only have to wait it out just a bit longer, as I'd come to discover upon nearing the entrance to my laundry room.

I was suddenly shoved to the floor by one harsh force. I _of course_ dropped my weapon in the process. I yelped out upon feeling a heavy weight suddenly drop down onto my back. I was held in place. I fought to get my pistol that was mere feet away, but the attacker was claiming it for himself far too quickly. I heard the perpetrator chuckle.

"Yup, it took a while, but I found ya," spoke the familiar voice. Anger consumed me, knocking out the fear altogether.

"_Fuck!_" I spat, while the man I loathed flipped me over to face him. His paint-ridden features gave him right away, though I really knew it was him all along.

"Hmm, yeah, we, uh, haven't done _that_ in quite a while now, have we?" He expectantly pulled out his infamous blade and held it to my neck.

"H-how did you find me?" I mumbled, while he rolled his eyes as if annoyed at my ignorance.

"How do ya think? I mean, you didn't really believe that you could hide from me forever, did ya? I was actually hoping to run into you while you were wearing that cute little red and blue _lingerie_ that you scamper about in while on your civil duties, but I haven't seen you do that in a while so I figured I'd have to go for a little stalking...So yesterday, one of my men happened to see ya walze out of the Gazette and get into your snazzy little Pre and he was wise enough to follow ya home. Real shocker too, cause most of my _bitch's_ aren't smart enough to follow through with such a task. Twas quite a feat for him to be hone-"

"Shut up! Get out of here! I don't love you, okay? I want you to leave me alone! I want you out of my house, and I want you out of my life. Do you understand?"

He whipped me across the face with his gloved right hand. He then stood up off of me and yanked me upwards along the way. I was slung over his shoulder while he began storming for my bathroom.

"What did I interrupt? A bath? Hmm? C'mon, let me help you continue with tha_t_."

The next thing I knew I was back in my bathroom. The door was slammed shut and I was hoisted upwards against the wall. I was imprisoned by his grasp yet again, his chest in between my legs and his hands firmly gripping my bottom to hold me in place. I knew damn well that I would not be escaping his possession, but I still fought against him.

He chuckled darkly at my struggle, finding it to be entertaining and cute as usual. "Thought you could stay away from me, did ya? Figured that maybe if you just held off your little super hero duties then I wouldn't find ya? Oh, sweetie, you should have known better." Tears shot down my face as he began to undo my robe. He'd claim me yet again within that minute. My thin and slightly worn robe was torn open seconds later. I decided that there was one thing I could do to perhaps save myself, for the last two times we'd done this there was no one around at all. No one to hear my screams. That was not the case this time. I was in _my_ fucking apartment!

I screamed out in protest, being almost immediately cut off with a rough shove downwards. My head hit the edge of my tub in the fall. My vision briefly blurred and the back of my head stang like never before. His body fell down over mine, his hands finding their place around my waist and locking me against him. I'd never seen him so infuriated. His eyes seemed to be a darker shade of brown and their glaring effect frightened me to the point of sickness. I was bent over the edge and held in place, his head craning over the side of my neck to meet my left ear.

"Shh shh shh. Don't fucking do that. I've got my handy little switchblade on me, and don't think that I'm afraid to use it on ya. I may be in love with ya, but that doesn't mean-"

Oh God, he didn't just say that.

"_LOVE?_" I couldn't help but squeal. No, no, I didn't want this demented freak falling head over heels for me! No, I loved Bruce, and Bruce loved me. I could never love _this_ madman in return. NEVER.

"Oh, yes, I know. A man like me...it doesn't seem likely, but I just can't seem to stop thinking about you!"

"That's not _love_, that's obsession," I corrected, being stupid as the term itself can possibly be. My head was thrusted down onto the solid edge on the tub in a furious attempt to get me to shut the fuck up.

An unforgiving headache began to settle in while his eyes met mine, his crazed expression unnerving the living daylights out of me. I'd never been more frightened in my life. Spittle and hot breath landed all over my face as he protested, most of his rants being grumbles or nonsense that I couldn't decipher due to being on the verge of falling unconscious from undergoing two nasty head blows.

"You think I want this, _Di-an-ah_, huh? I don't. I wish I could just fuck ya one last time and slide my blade across that pretty little throat and let that be the end of ya." He shook his head, disregarding that consideration entirely. "No, no, no. I couldn't do that." He pulled the remainder of my robe off and pushed me down onto the floor, then pinning me down with his own weight atop me. He removed his coat and undid his own shirt to become bare chested before me, while I weakly fumbled around under his weight, my head feeling as if it was cracked open.

I restlessly tossed and turned beneath him, crying in hysterics while doing so. "Please, please...please don't do this, please-"

His chest met mine and his now bare hands went for my back. His mouth was crushed onto mine in a sick show of affection. My air flow was cut off from his vigorous and bitter tasting lips being crammed into mine, his tongue making easy access past my lips when I'd made the mistake of trying to holler out again in protest. It was impossible to picture this being Bruce; his body, feel and weight just contrasting far too much from _this_ prick.

My bra was off within that minute and my nipples were met with the uncomfortable scruff of his chest. I felt weaker and weaker as the seconds ticked on, feeling like an eternity. When his lips were off mine he panted heavily, gazing into my eyes, his expression appearing more relaxed prior to the aggravated mien he had on a minute earlier.

He grumbled my name in an erotic tone then shifted himself downwards to begin with the despised foreplay. He continued down my frame after sloppily running his tongue over my teats, down past my naval and onto my - NO!

"Oh, God, stop, don't-"

His sprang back upwards and pinned my arms to the the sides of my head. "You're going to let me do this, Dian."

"I-I'll make love with you, b-but, I don't want you to do, _that_."

He ignored my wishes and sneered at my shyness. He slid my panties down with his index finger and thumb. My heart pounded madly in my chest and my face went aflame as he inserted his index and middle fingers into me, then pulling them back out - to do the most obscene thing I'd ever witnessed in real life, aside from an HBO sitcom or erotic novel. He lightly licked his rim of his fingers then sucked on them, disgusting me horrendously. My eyes went wide in amazement, as he kept his gaze locked on mine while he proudly tasted me for the first time.

His fingers escaped his lips with an audible *pop* and he tilted his head and looked down at me, his façade depicting both sympathy and mockery. "Oh, sweetheart, you've never been tasted before? I've gotta say that's a little shocking...seems like any man with a thing for girls would be crazy to have their head in between your-"

"You're a pig! Fucking sick pervert!" I couldn't hold back. The asshole was almost making me feel bad that I'd never slept with more men, the only person I'd slept with being Bruce, and having only slept with him a total of five times, now that we got back together just four weeks earlier. I wouldn't let his lips anywhere near my private area, despite his offerings. I was just too damn mousy, though with more time and confidence boosting maybe I could have let this happen.

But now, **he** was doing this. The mortification I was enduring was surely enough to kill me, having not done so yet for mysterious reasons.

"Yup...innocent little thing. Never had a man's tongue in your snatch."

"Stop it-"

"_Noo_," he darkly cooed. My legs were forced open, my intimate area being completely exposed to him. No, God, I couldn't allow this. I _wouldn't_ allow this.

With all the strength I could muster, I shoved my foot against his groin, fending him off _just barely_. I scrambled away and got to my feet, robe in hand, then door knob. I'd just barely managed to turn it before he got ahold of me. I was heaved over his shoulder in one swift motion and thrown down into the bath water, nearly half of the lukewarm water being splashed out of the tub with the force and weight. I was underwater not even a second. His pants and underwear were off by the time my eyes had met his figure. I scooted as far away from him as I could manage doing myself no good at all. He stepped in and settled down into the mildly heated water and went for me. Our heads submerged into the water briefly from the impact of his body colliding with mine.

He grabbed a handful of my soaked hair and yanked with great force, now intensifying the already splitting headache I had. "Alrighty_ little Nun_, we'll do that another time." His mouth went for mine, his body ramming into me and his erection meeting its usual place.

Sex was a requirement. Luckily not oral, but intercourse in general. I wailed and fought weakly all the way through, he in response merely chuckling cruelly or growling in frustration. It must have been around 9:00 that night, and I knew Bruce was heading over here for the night. He'd be there any time.

"He's coming! He'll be here! Batman, he is coming! We're dating!" I pleaded, stopping him right where he was. Discouragement engulfed his formerly pleased expression.

He grabbed my jawline and glared daggers into my eyes. "Ya mean you've been fuckin' the Bat?"

Though put bluntly, it was true. I swear, he must have been a male version of Selina. I nodded in return, hot tears still running down my face along with bathwater dirty from his washed off makeup.

"So, he's, uh, coming here then?" He grimaced, and stood quickly, the fucking coward scrambled out of the tub and went for the towel. Why the fuck didn't I warn him of this _earlier?_ It was perhaps my time to shine?

"Oh, what? Afraid of the Batman now, aren't you? Fucking coward at heart. Who'd've known…"

He was already dressed, his hands still bare however, and not through with grabbing away at my very sore chin.

"Oh, I do love a good brawl with the Bats, honey, but if he were to catch me in the act with you then I'd be in for it! I hate to be honest, I do, but I wouldn't want you to have to witness your lover getting the shit beat outta him-"

"You are _not_ my lover!" I screamed, tears now really flowing down my face. I cannot describe the frustration I was feeling. It was so powerful. It was clinical depression working its way into my system, one tear and sexual assault at a time. This man had officially broken me.

"Oh, I'm not done with you, Diana." He opened the door, fully clothed and switchblade grasped firmly in hand. "You haven't seen the last of _me_."

The door was slammed shut, and so was my hope.

…

I had ten of my best towels spread throughout my small bathroom, all playing a part to soak up the huge water mess. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't even notice the knock at my door.

I sniffled and mourned relentlessly, while crouching down on my knees and patting down a couple of the towels, my head throbbing like it took a goddamn bullet and my state of mind feeling overwhelmingly violated. My previous peaceful state had died a cruel death.

I was so traumatized that I didn't even notice my door creak open, nor Bruce's presence, not until my tear-ridden eyes glanced slightly upwards from their position on the dampening towel onto a familiar pair of ebony colored Hush Puppies.

I looked up and met Bruce's horrified and obviously curious gaze.

"What happened?"


	25. Deceit

_**Deceit **_

If only he'd've shown up just five minutes earlier.

I blinked back tears and sniffled, in a poor attempt to cover up my obvious mourning. He stepped in and crouched down beside me. I didn't know what to say. It was too late anyways. I was sure that the Joker was long gone by now, with his keen determination and agility. Not to mention he did fear Bruce somewhat, though he wouldn't really admit to it.

I felt a firm hand rest on my cloaked backside, and I quivered from the touch, immediately reviewing the flashes of what occurred just minutes prior.

Tears continued to pool around my eyes. There was no holding them back. I briefly drew my eyes back down, unwilling to meet the dark hues of Bruce. I was just too damaged. I wanted to be alone.

"Diana, _what happened here?_" he spoke, more serious this time. I shook uncontrollably and rose up off my knees. I turned the other way and gently paced around. I was absolutely speechless. Bruce began to analyze the bathroom, being the detective he was. It was only a matter of time before he'd figure out what occurred just by studying the state of my restroom. The puddles of spilled water on the floor and the leftover murky water still in the tub really contributed a big hint; the colors red, black and white all being visible in the small patch of bubbles in the corner of the tub, the water itself being mostly black from the bastard's washed off makeup.

Bruce was on his feet now, seeming to take a big, frightful hint. What would I say? Or rather, what was he about to say?

"_He_ was here…" he mumbled more to himself, while I felt my knees weaken more and more with each passing second. My head was throbbing like crazy; I'd never had such a terrible migraine in my life. Bruce's eyes were drawn back onto me, his mien grave as I'd ever witnessed it.

"What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

I solemnly met his hurt expression. "What the fuck do you think?!" I stammered, then collapsing back down to the hard tiles, my body enervating to a frightening extent. I felt his hands slip around me and pull me back up to my feet. His arm slipped around me as he helped me walk out of the horrendous scene. "Let's get out of here," he spoke softly, yet unable to hold down that earnest tone.

I continued to sob uncontrollably while Bruce practically carried me over to my bed. He tried his best to coax me, but I just couldn't hold back from releasing my tormented state in the form of hysteric depression. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap; my head went against his broad and welcoming chest immediately thereafter.

"Shh, Diana, you have to tell me what happened." He gently rocked me in his arms, providing pure comfort and just a bit of solace. Thank God he was there. I was falling apart. I was sobbing so hard that I could hardly speak. I was an inscrutable, muttering mess.

"H-he broke in, a-and-"

"When did he break in?"

I had to pull myself together. "*_Sniff_* U-um...I'm not entirely sure. When I got home I sensed that something was not right, but I - I just shrugged it off. Then I began filling the tub up, and I undressed, until I heard a loud noise come from the entryway. I got my robe on and then went to get my pistol, then I was going to call you, but the phone line was cut. I figured that I could just handle things on my own. I searched around the living room and kitchen with the gun held tightly in my hand, and after a couple minutes I figured that maybe the person had already left, but when I made my way to the laundry room...he - he tackled me, a-and I lost my gun. I was defenseless."

Bruce became immensely discontent. Then he began to blame himself, much to my discouragement.

"Goddamn it! I should have been here! Christ! Oh, Dian, I'm so sorry, I'm so-"

"No, Bruce! Don't blame yourself. This, this was _my_ fault. I should have taken precaution when I felt that someone was here in the first place.

"What did he do to you?" I could tell that he was reluctant to ask me that, but he knew he had to. It was okay. He would protect me and provide the much needed support. I just had to be strong.

"He, um, he-" I was interrupted by Bruce's groan of fury. Oh, he knew what the Fucker did. It was obvious. I think that he just wanted to disregard the possibility as much as possible. He just could not fathom it.

He shook me suddenly, growing very tempered. His expression went from afraid to disgruntled in a short matter of time. He glared deeply into my eyes, then inquired, "he _raped_ you?!" I'd never seen him so consumed with aggression. Though his eyes remained free of tears, his face went a deep shade of red and his overall façade underwent a contortion of pure venom. He was pissed.

"Bruce, it's okay. He's go-"

"How long ago did he leave?" he broke in, as if he had his mind set on capturing the bastard.

"Bruce-"

"WHEN DID HE GO?!" he demanded. I had to oblige. "Uh- about fifteen minutes ago." He grasped my waist and gently placed me aside him, then stood.

"He couldn't have gotten _too_ far. I'm going to call Gordon and the rest of the force to call out a search party. If we really work at it we may be able to catch this prick tonight."

"Bruce, what if he comes back here?!" More tears flooded down my cheeks at the thought. Bruce was more considerate, however. "You're not staying here, Dian. I want you to come back to the manor with me. You'll be staying there."

My heart fluttered in relief. "Bruce, are you sure?"

"Of course. Now, get dressed and pack up what you need. Then I can drop you off and help you get acquainted. I'll have to go, unfortunately. I cannot pass up this chance at finally getting ahold of this freak. Don't worry, Alfred is back home and he'll be there with you to get you whatever you need. You're going to be fine."

I slowly brought myself to my feet, nearly stumbling back down from the numbness in my legs. Bruce went back into my bathroom to clean up the soaked towels and the rest of the mess while I made my way to my closet. I sluggishly let my robe drop down to my floor and tugged one of my old blue dresses off of the hanger and pulled it over my naked frame. I threw on a pair of boy shorts along with it, not really caring to wear a bra. My head throbbed intensely where I was stricken; the Joker's fit of rage having really taken a toll on my physical state. I slipped my worn white TOMS on before falling back down onto my bed from the spontaneous pang that had struck the back of my head. My man was at my side in seconds.

"I think I should perhaps get you to a hospital instead, Dian," he suggested, figuring that to be the only wise thing to do at this point. No, the last thing I wanted was to go to the ER. They would have to do a rape kit and everything. No, I just wanted to put this behind me like I did the other two incidents and move on. I simply doubted that there was any severe trauma to my head, and that the arduous pain that rung through my head on and off would pass over with time, rest and plenty of Motrin.

"No, Bruce, I just want to go to your place and get some much needed rest. That's all I need." He shot me a reluctant look then shrugged as if to say _if that's what you think best_.

He kept his arm wrapped around me and assisted in each step I took, for I was feeling fairly dizzy. He held onto my duffle bag composed of not much more than toothpaste, a toothbrush and fresh underwear. He phoned Commissioner Gordon on our way to his car, telling him of the incident I had endured involving the Joker's break-in, thankfully excluding the details on the forced sex assault.

I kept my eyes out the window the entire drive over to his place. Focusing my gaze anywhere else would have resulted in getting majorly carsick, and that was the LAST thing I needed to accompany my already prevalent migraine.

I appreciated Bruce's efforts to bring justice to my unfortunate experience, but it wasn't like I really deserved it. After all, that was the _3rd_ time I'd had sex with him, the first two times, well, the first time was at least somewhat preventable. I couldn't bring myself to confess this to Bruce. I just had to deceive him, though, is it really considered deceitful to not inform the man of the first two times we'd done it? I hadn't even confided such a thing to my diary. I felt contaminated. Disgusted. Infiltrated. I could barely accept theses things myself.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to a doctor?" Bruce asked with sincerity, while I continued to neglect the offer. "Just keep driving. I'll be okay."

He wrapped his arm around me again, immediately making me feel at ease. I remained gratuitous for his presence. What would I do without him? Such a savior he was. Put everything and everyone ahead of himself. The selfless man. God, I can't express how much I loved him.

My eyes were yet again stunned briefly at the size and appearance of his beautiful manor. He pulled into the large driveway and patted my shoulder and mumbled a gentle "we're here."

I groggily stepped out with my light bag in hand and nearly threw myself off with the mere closing of his Benz door. I prayed that Bruce had some Ibuprofen in his medicine cabinet, since I had un-thoughtfully left mine back at the complex.

I staggered for the doorway with my hand holding the back of my aching head, Bruce quickly coming my way. The door was opened before I'd even been ten feet away from it, a genial and humble Alfred Pennyworth stood at the threshold with a look of empathy on his elderly face.

"Evening Miss Prince," he spoke while barring a gentle smile, while I was having difficulty putting on any facial expressions aside from a grimace. I approached the kind man and shook his hand while mumbling "hello, Alfred," in return while making my way inside. I heard Bruce approach him behind me and explain the circumstances to him while I gazed upon the heavenly looking couch that promised comfort off in the living room; the very one that Bruce and I had made love on a few times before.

I crashed down onto it as if I'd just ran a freaking marathon. My head was undergoing one hell of a twinge, and I felt that I could be on my feet no longer. Tears shot down my right temple, now from the tension that throbbed away in the back of my head over the personal time with the war paint wearing jackass.

Bruce approached me a minute later with a glass of ice water and a couple motrin. He buried his left arm beneath me and leaned me upright, then placed a more plump pillow behind my head for better support. I wasted no time in taking those pills, and I prayed that they would work their magic in a little amount of time, for I couldn't endure much more of this.

"Alright, Alfred is here to take care of you. I have to go, and I'm sorry for that. The last thing I want to do is go on a wild goose chase aimlessly looking for the ass that did this to you, but I also can't afford to skip out on it."

I groaned in slight protest, not that I minded at all being alone with the humble old man, but I really wanted Bruce by my side to keep me safe. No offense, but I doubted that Alfred could really do much to save me from potential mayhem, except phone the authorities, and by then it'd be too late.

Bruce rubbed the back of my neck and kneeled down. "This could be it, Dian. We just might catch this lunatic tonight. Keep your hopes up." He planted a kiss on my forehead and then stood back upright. "If you need anything at all, just ask Alfred. He's extremely attentive for a man his age." I couldn't help but smile a little at that comment. Thankfully the butler was in the other room at the time, likely not hearing our meanless insultory.

"Bye, baby," I mumbled while he hurried away off to get his suit on. Of course he had to leave the place as _Batman_, and not Bruce Wayne. I just hoped that he'd be able to keep his word. That he really could capture the Joker.

…

I dozed off into slumber nearly thirty minutes later in that large, drafty and dark room. Alfred had offered me a few things within the first twenty minutes of my uncomfortable lay on the couch, my headache failing to cease even slightly, but I had turned down anything he'd generously throw my way. I told him that I was all set, and that he was free to go to bed, then he did so with a tad of reluctance. I could handle myself just fine. I was uncomfortable with the thought of anyone waiting on me.

I woke up after having slept for a few hours; the small digital clock on the coffee table showing it to be 1:12am. After a few minutes of stretching and yawning I slowly came to my senses. I laid upwards on the fluffy pillow behind me and felt relief at the notification of my headache having toned down in pain, though still looming around in the back corner of my head somewhat. I decided to go into his kitchen to get some fresh ice water; for my throat was very dry for random reason.

Of course his kitchen was lovely; so large and comprised of elegant artwork and color on the walls, even an island in the middle of the vast kitchen with a broad knife wrack hung above and a pile of left out ingredients perched on the middle of the table, mostly just salt shakers and bags of flour.

I wandered over to his expectantly substantial fridge and opened it up to see it stuffed full of all kinds of goodies. Everything from a basic gallon of milk to three large boxes of _Betty Crocker _cheesecake.

My stomach then let me know that I had never gotten the chance to have dinner due to the horrendous distraction I had to face. Well, I could go for some cheesecake...and one of the boxes was already opened. The cherries on top having looked too appetizing to turn down, I got that out and pulled the tray out of the box on the island. No more than a few slices were missing, so I'd be stingy with the piece I was about to cut. This wasn't my home, so I wasn't going to act like it was, despite what Bruce or Alfred had to say against that.

I was halfway through my slice when I caught a glimpse of a figure in my peripheral view. The kitchen was dark aside from the moonlight shining in from the other room, only providing some dim light into the kitchen. I knew shrugging this off would not benefit me in the latter, for I had learned that lesson the hard way. The ridiculously difficult way, that is. Just as my mother had told me years earlier: _When a woman senses that something is askew, she should never disregard it as personal figmentation. A woman's perception and initial feeling is perhaps the most reliable thing in the world._

Well, I don't know about it being the most reliable thing in the world, but I knew she was correct about one thing: when you feel like someone is lurking about without your knowledge of it, run like hell! Being skeptical about my own instinct has really not gotten me anywhere good in life, and it was time for that to change.

I gracefully set my fork down and cocked my head sideways - to see no one. My heart began to pump madly again, then slowed once I'd heard a toilet flush. Then the door off in the distance was opened and out stepped old man Pennyworth. Of course! Who else would it have been? The Joker? He didn't who know who the Batman really was, let alone where he resided.

Alfred seemed to notice me while passing through the long hall. I originally didn't want him to spot me for mere reason of not wanting to perturb him. He slowly walked in and flicked the light on, gave me a disgruntled expression then transforming into a gentle grin.

"Well, you don't have to have a snack with the lights off now, Miss Prince. I just wanted to make sure that you could actually _see_ what you are eating." He lightly chuckled in the end then began to go on his way. I had abruptly stopped him in need of an answer.

"Oh, um, Alfred, you, um, don't mind me eating this, do you?" I asked shyly, feeling kind of silly for doing so. He returned a warm smile.

"Not at all, my dear. Enjoy." I returned an awkward smile and thanked him as he headed back to his room. He reminded me of my grandfather. So kind and thoughtful, and of course extremely solicitous to overpower the other two. He had passed away in '98 from a heart attack, the memory of it panging my heart at the thought of it. He was my favorite family member after all, from losing my father at a young age from lung cancer and having a distant and reclusive mother and sister. He was the only one who really felt like family.

Once I finished my dessert, I headed back into the living room to catch some more shut-eye. Though for the rest of that night, all I could do was anticipate Bruce's return. I knew he'd be out all night, probably wasting his time to be negatively frank.

…

I must have dozed off some time after getting acquainted back on the sofa, for I was awoken by the sound of a door slamming. I squinted around the room fighting to adjust my eyes to the newly arrived daylight that seeped into the room through the tall, sheer curtains.

I leaned upright and saw Bruce storming across the hallway way off in the other room. He didn't seem satisfied. I got up and hurriedly ran out of the room to meet Bruce who was headed up the stairs. I went up the stairs while hollering "So? What happened?"

He continued his pace away from me towards his 'Bat Cave' to remove his armor, or so I'd assumed. I carried on with my pace, having acknowledged that my headache was gone entirely.

"Bruce! Tell me what-"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was no progress made. That freak really knows how to stay out of the spotlight when he's being hunted for."

My stomach plummeted in disappointment, yet I wasn't too phased. Of course the Joker was back in hiding, and if he didn't _want_ to be seen, then he wouldn't be seen. He could work that way. That was just one of his many inhumanly characteristics.

I folded my arms and leaned against the doorway panel. "...It's alright, Bruce. Maybe next ti-"

"No, Dian! It's anything but OK!" He shoved the table before him that was full of gadgets to the floor in a sudden outburst of pure aggression. The table collapsed to the floor with an unnerving *thud*. I was startled by his furious audacity, yet I understood his frustration all too well.

I stepped around the broken shards and bits of his less useless weapons and placed my hand on his armored shoulder. He groaned, still in his 'Batman' state of mind, hence the slightly overly aggressive tendencies.

He sighed. "...Where do we go from here?"


	26. Moving in

_**Moving in**_

Bruce, still in his vigilante gear, simply glared down at the broken pieces on the floor. He continued grimacing and went speechless. I felt that I was somehow intruding, like he just wanted to be alone to think things over.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I'll be on my way, I guess." I stated that with gloomy expression; I was feeling just as miserable as my frustrated friend/boyfriend. I headed for the doorway before he stopped me in my tracks.

"Where are you going, Dian?"

I turned and met his gaze. He always looked so damn dour with that mask on. He was a completely different man when he was in that suit, both mentally and physically. He was almost frightening in a way; perhaps in a dark or Gothic way, you could pinpoint either term.

"I'm going back to the apartment. I need to get a new phone set up, then I'll um, definitely be changing the locks on my door-"

"No, you can't go back there. He knows where you live. It's far too risky."

"But, Bruce-"

"I want you to move in with me."

What? I was startled, and excited about that compliment.

"Wow, um, Bruce are you-"

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you for some time anyways, Dian. Now I have a legitimate excuse for you to. I'll go with you back to the complex to help you pack up your things, but I don't want you going back there alone… after what happened to you."

I was actually very relieved. I was reluctant on going back to the apartment anyways. Make that _extremely_ unwilling. And not only would his manor be providing safe haven, but now our relationship could accelerate from there.

I became giddy all of the sudden. I hadn't felt so good in days. I scampered over to him while his back was turned and he was removing his mask and head gear. I embraced him from behind, my arms went around his torso and my head laid against his upper back. He was just over six foot, so he had quite a bit of height on me, _not to my disliking_.

"Thank you, Bruce. God, you're such a sweetheart." He turned around and brought me closer to his chest.

I knew he was still upset; why wouldn't he be? He was out all night looking for the prick who had been making my life a living hell since that last June, and he still hadn't been able to back him up in a corner to be barricade him from making a getaway. I refused to admit it aloud, but a part of me knew that Bruce nor the authorities would not be able to capture this madman. He was just too far ahead of us.

"It's alright Dian, everything will be _alright._"

* * *

Bruce continued to search madly for the clown throughout the rest of that week and into the next.

We'd make a few trips back and forth from my apartment to transfer some of my things over to his place. Little progress was made due to his tedious schedule, though it was notable that it was Gordon who had his heart and soul set on tracking down the Joker far more than the rest of us since Bruce had told him that he'd broken into my place. It seemed that Jim was the only one who still had the tiniest bit of hope in him that the feds would be able to find and prosecute the sicko, for I could see that Bruce had certainly dropped his hopes long ago, though he wouldn't audibly confirm that. I was just proud of him for at least trying. He just had to be a hero.

As a few more weeks ticked on I was beginning to worry less and less. And now that I shared a bed with Bruce, I'd say that sex was for more frequent than before, of course to my satisfaction. He was such a gentleman when it came to _that_. Why, he wouldn't bash my head against the bathtub ledge or abuse me with outrageous antics, whether verbal offense or physical harm. He was gentle yet he could be dominant. I must say that I prefered the 'Batman' when it came to making love. God, that tone he'd use in the process. It was perhaps the sexiest thing I'd ever experienced. Actually, it just was.

Not to mention I could consider hanging around Alfred while Bruce was working to be a nice thing, considering his utmost kindness. He had told me of what it was like raising Bruce after his parents were tragically murdered. He was just eight when he lost them, and to make matters worse he witnessed it. Some ruthless thief had done it, Joe Chill, as Bruce had told me, though he never went too far into detail, for the memory must have burned like nothing else. I could understand quite well, for I lost my own dad when I was sixteen.

Alfred was able to go more in depth with Bruce's childhood. He told me that he was a very intelligent boy growing up. He was homeschooled since most of the public schools were in Gotham city, somewhat of a distance from the manor, for it was technically outside of city limits. He did go to public high school in Ossaville, which is more nearby than Gotham.

Then, he decided to travel around out of the country for awhile in an attempt to 'find himself', which he'd ultimately succeeded at since, well, he's _Batman_. That there says enough. He knew what he had to do for this messy city, and Thank God he was there to forward the payments that no one else bothered doing.

Alfred had also mentioned his late friend, Rachel Dawes to me. Bruce had told me very little of her, which is again, understandable. I couldn't believe all of the losses he's been through. It made me wonder how he could carry on the way he did. Well, Alfred had specified that him and "Miss Dawes" were very close growing up, until she got together with the late District Attorney, Harvey Dent, then Bruce had become, well, jealous, like anyone would who had come to love someone beyond companionship. It was completely comprehensible. Then her death, God what torture, for both her and Bruce. Then to realize that her killer was the-

No, I'm not going to think about that fuck.

Alfred had originally been the butler for Bruce's parents, then I suppose he was 'passed on to the next Wayne' for inheritance, so it seemed. That would explain why he called him "Master Bruce" at least. Though I was sure that him being an extreme gentleman also played a part in the reason for his proper and old fashioned addressing, for he had never called me anything aside from "Miss Prince."

Well, no matter what he had to say about Bruce or anything else in general I'd enjoy hearing about it. He was very peaceful company for when I was alone at the manor. Really, I hated being alone ever since, well, you know.

…

To be honest, I was hesitant on rebooting my vigilante duties. I was content with my current lifestyle. It was calm, though uneventful, except when Bruce would take me out somewhere fancy for dinner, and I felt at ease, which may have just been the problem. I enjoyed the excitement and even the challenges I had to endure while being Wonder Woman. She is my alter ego, like Batman is for Bruce. I wasn't certain that I was meant to lead a 'normal' life. The mediocre chick? Nah, that wasn't really brought out the best of me; she made me braver and more valiant. I wasn't so afraid when I was her, though it admittedly was likely psychosomatic. Not that that mattered, though. It was okay to be two people as long as both of them were good. So, was I really ready to whip out the suit again?

According to the news that night it wasn't. The Joker had videotaped himself torchering a man that Bruce knew from work. His name was Lucius. Bruce was just inches before the widescreen, putting his full focus on the Joker's speech. I just stared blankly at the screen, almost unable to believe what I was seeing.

The man was tied up to a chair, and the Joker could be heard in the background, though he wasn't shown at the moment. I felt sick with each word he spat, my vision became flooded with the memories of the night a couple weeks earlier.

"_Sooo...you know who the Batman is…"_

_- "No, I do not."_

_He appeared before the camera and smacked the man across the face. I cringed and Bruce groaned in frustration while Alfred put his hand over his chest and gasped._

"_No no no no no no nonono you know who the Bat is! I know you do! You've been workin' with the brute for years now, haven't cha? Yeah, I know you know him, mm hmm, and you are gonna fess up sooner or later, unless you want a nice big smile on your face-" He grabbed his collar and jerked him in closer. "JUST LIKE ME," he screeched in his face while holding the blade across his cheek._

_Tears rolled down his face. "I-I'm telling you I don't know him!" SMACK._

Bruce stood.

"I've got to get down to the plaza fast. That's where they seem to be." Bruce began to storm away to go and get his suit on. I was baffled something very terrible.

"Bruce! How does he know Lucius? And how does he know that Lucius knows who you are?!" I shouted after him, as if he'd really have an answer.

"Hell if I know, Dian, but this is _not good_. This means that the clown has accurate suspicions that

'Batman' is one of the men working at the Enterprises...he's finally narrowed it down..._shit_."

He then stormed out of the living room and up the stairs. I was left alone with the horrific live video recording of the Joker and his captive, Lucius. Alfred was standing near the couch, watching in utter terror like myself.

"This...this is preposterous," the butler chipped in, while I felt that I could not bear to watch anymore.

I looked away and prayed that Bruce would really be able to stop this, and finally capture the goddamn lunatic. I glanced up in horror upon hearing a man scream out - the freak had sliced his cheek open. The screen went dark, then the news went on with explaining the situation.

"BRUCE! BRUCE! He cut him! You have to hurry!" I shouted while running frantically towards the stairway, Bruce making his way down the steps right then. He strided past me and made his way for the door. It was swung open and slammed shut in a flash, and he was gone.


	27. The Funeral

_**The Funeral**_

I sat still as a broken clock's hands on Bruce's futon by the windowpane. The TV had been shut off, and Alfred was gloomily baking a pan of lasagna in the kitchen, with all due unnecessariness. My appetite was gone. I was far too anticipated to eat or even drink anything. All I could bring myself to do was sit with my legs crossed on that small couch and wait-out my man's return. He'd been gone nearly two hours now; it was 8:41 at night.

I shook uncontrollably at the thought of what I'd seen that night. He was going extreme lengths to unveil the Batman's identity. He was getting closer and closer. I believed that Bruce going there would only worsen things, well, it _would_ worsen things, undoubtedly. He was throwing himself into a huge trap, and I was betting high that the Joker was prepared to deal with him this time. Why else make the hostage's tortured interrogation LIVE? He was luring him in, of course.

I wasn't defiant enough to convince Bruce otherwise. I'd tried so many times before with other things, and the result would always remain the same. He'd win, and I'd lose. Though, it may have been for the best. For if I'd've been able to convince to hold back from putting himself in imminent danger all of these years, then our city would've been doomed into oblivion much earlier. Circumstances would be even worse, if that was even viable.

At this point, it really didn't seem so.

Alfred walked in some time later with that usual tray in his right hand, bestowing a likely beautiful lasagna dish under the lid. I still could not take a single bite, no matter how delicious it looked.

He gently set the dish down on the small fold-up table before me, then lifted the metal lid to reveal a quick gust of steam and then the presentation of the fancy Italian dinner.

"Your dinner, ma'am. Does it appear to your satisfaction?" he asked, being your typical, genial butler of the modern age. It looked scrumptious, and if conditions were different then the pasta would have made me ravenous, but that was not the case.

"It looks wonderful, Alfred, but I'm afraid I can't eat. My appetite died when, well, you know with the news clip and all…"

He frowned just barely, and shrugged defeatedly. "I understand, Miss Prince. I too feel ill from viewing such inhumanity...would you care for anything to drink?"

"No thank you."

He nodded understandingly. "I'll let you be alone. I'll leave the dinner here in case you change your mind. Good evening." He walked out of the room, leaving me be with my unsettling thoughts and negativity. I didn't really want to be alone, but I also did not have the determination to call Alfred back in and tell him to take a seat by me. He probably had things to attend to, anyways…

I laid down after ten minutes of blank thought had loomed around in the disconcert fragments of my mental state. I had decided to rest up some until Bruce's return.

God knew when that would be.

* * *

I woke up to the abrupt ringing of Bruce's phone. I groggily turned over to face the majority of the room. My eyes had stung from the light shining in through the sheer curtains. The phone continued to ring from the other side of the huge room. It looked like I'd have to pick up the strength to get my ass up and go and answer it. It could have been Bruce, after all.

Finding that strength after having slept on a limp futon for the past ten hours forced me to bring out the recently unused Wonder. Though, just as I'd come to my feet, the notion of the phone having ceased its annoying ring had struck me, and so did my knee and back pain. Well, hopefully they'd just call back momentarily…

A few minutes later I knew that they would not be, for Alfred had answered the phone in another room those minutes earlier. He walked in, having the gravest expression I'd ever seen on him plastered on his usually calm face. He had some dreadful news.

I met his upset gaze as he stood before me. "Lucius Fox has been killed."

What?

I couldn't speak. Dear God, the madman had gone through with it. I felt an overwhelmingly powerful urge to vomit. My breathing paced and I felt dizzy. Eidetic imagery of the last night's news footage flashed my vision. Was it really so?

"Wha- Who told you this?"

He grimaced and drew his tired eyes to the floor, no longer able to look me in the eyes. "The Commissioner, James Gordon. He was calling for Master Bruce, but he told me to inform him that Mr. Fox did not make it...he'd been stabbed five times in the stomach, and his throat had been cut with a blade…"

Familiar tears ran down my cheek. "Wh-where is Bruce?!"

He shook his head. "I am not certain. He only told me that he had went after the Joker after the incident had already happened. He was hardly alive by the time he had arrived to the plaza. He just passed away in critical care within the last hour or so."

This, this was too much. I couldn't accept any of it. I had to do something. I got up and headed for the doorway. "I have to go find him."

Alfred hurriedly followed, not pleased with my impulsive and stupid decision. I was throwing myself into a death trap, and unlike Bruce, I couldn't survive through such a thing.

"Miss Prince! You-you can't-"

"Watch me."

I threw the door open-

-to come face to face with the man I was about to risk my life for. Oh, the coincidence was unbearable.

His suit was torn in some of the fabric strewn areas, and some of his 'armor' had either chipped away of fallen off completely. His mask was the most shocking to see. The entire cheek and jawline coverage was torn away, and there were small holes and chunks missing from the forehead and cheekbone area. There were notable scratches and claw marks all over the damn thing, particularly around the sides of the mask, as if fought to have it removed with force. There were small cuts on his shin and around his lips.

His 'nose' had been broken off.

I was still at loss with words, as was he. I felt that if I was going to say something, it would be something that he really didn't want to hear, but he had to know.

"...Lucius is dead, Bruce. Jim just called with the news-"

Some emotion had kicked in and Bruce was hysteric. He strode past me and yanked the remainder of his head peice off and chucked in harshly to the floor, breaking it apart even more.

I could hear his violent heaves from the other side of the room. "WHAT THE _FUCK_ DOES IT TAKE?!" he screamed, sounding more aggrieved than I'd ever witnessed. This was him at his worst.

I saw him collapse to the floor in the other room. I ran over to him and Alfred followed. I dropped down beside him and attempted to provide comfort by caressing my arms over his broad upper back. He was sobbing and turning from both Alfred and I, out of pure sorrow and shame, it seemed.

"Bruce...Bruce, it's okay, there's nothing more you can do-"

"How does he do it?! I had _him_! I did, then he, he was gone. Out of my sight, out of my reach yet again...He's impossible. Inhuman just as well as inhumane. I...I don't understand. Why couldn't I get him?"

"No one can, Master Wayne," Alfred cut in. "You are indeed correct with your words. He is simply extraordinarily diverse to the average human being. Intolerable. Corrupt. Gifted in the sense of making an effective getaway…"

"I just can't do this now, Alfred...I've lost a friend." He swiftly rose to his feet and headed for the stairway. The best thing that Alfred and I could do was leave him alone.

* * *

"_We are gathered here today to mourn and grieve the death of business manager of Wayne's Enterprises, Lucius Fox. He passed away on August 14th, 2012, and he was the tragic victim of an interrogation held by our brutal enemy, the Joker. He led a life a leadership and prospect and has dedicated his efforts for the Wayne's Enterprises for the past 20 years. His hard work and diligence in providing for the company as well as helping it achieve outstanding success will be remembered and praised upon for years to come."_

As he spoke I couldn't remove my eyes from the coffin behind the priest. I still couldn't quite grasp it. Bruce was only taking it worse. He sat beside me, no tears running down his cheeks, rather a stoic and hardened mien instead. Aggravation overcame his sorrow. He felt that this was his fault, though it really was not. It was no one's fault but…

_His_.

Bruce and I walked around the cemetery after the burial. It was tense to say the least. This was what misery was. I felt that he accepted my presence now, for being alone in his room for the past few days had really done him no good.

I kept silent, as did he, for a little while at least. "Left too damn early. He was just 48...everyone in my damn life seems to die young. Everyone I know and love." He turned his frightening grave expression to me. "I wont lose you, Dian. I will not."

I felt chills of angst tingle down my spine at those words. The way he said it, it was so frighteningly stern. I did not favor this side of him. It _almost_ made him a bad person. I gently reached out for his shoulder and held onto it as we continued our stride. We were far from the funeral scene at this point. It was just the two of us.

"He was a great man. Such proprietary for the workplace. So determined, even more so than myself...Why him? Why not _me_?"

"Don't say that, Bruce."

"I appreciate your kindness, Dian, but I have to face the truth, even if it is unfavorable. Lucius did not deserve that. No one does. He'll just keep at it...he will never stop. He lives for the suffering of others."

It disgusted me to know just how true that was. Yes, I had to unfortunately experience that for myself. It was an establishment.

Another chill of alarm ran down my spine when I heard Bruce chuckle quickly and abruptly. "Loves to manipulate too, I noticed. Does all he can to really rip at your heart. Wants you to believe every little thing he lets escape his crooked lipstick-worn lips…"

I gulped. "What do you mean?"

"He told me that he _had his way_ with you...that you were his bitch. Oh, how I threw a decent one at his nasty jugular after that remark...the sick prick."

"Well, I hate to be honest, Bruce, but he did attempt to rape me a few weeks ago-"

"Oh, no, he said that you two have done it _more_ than once...the confused bastard. Said that you're his usual 'go-to whore' for satisfying his fucked-up carnal needs...I'm sorry, Dian. Those were his exact words." He brought me in closer to him, while I went pale and felt queasy. "Let's just be thankful that it's over."

No

It most certainly was not.


End file.
